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THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  SAN  DIEGO 

LA  JOLLA.  CALIFORNIA 


BOOKS  BY  PROF.  RALPH  BARTON  PERRY 
PUBLISHED  BY  CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


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THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 


THE  FREE  MAN 
AND  THE  SOLDIER 

ESSAYS    ON   THE    RECONCILIATION    OF 
LIBERTY   AND    DISCIPLINE 


BY 

RALPH   BARTON   PERRY 

PROFESSOR    OF    PHILOSOPHY    IN    HARVARD    UNIVERSITY 


6/4 

NEW  YORK 

CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1916 


Copyright,  1916,  by 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 


Published  August,  1916 


AFFECTIONATELY    DEDICATED 
TO 

S.   B.   P. 


PREFACE 

The  sort  of  truth  that  is  in  most  danger  of 
getting  itself  ignored  is  the  whole  truth.  It  is 
usually  too  monotonously  obvious  to  attract 
attention,  too  insipid  to  lend  a  relish  to  con- 
versation, and  too  dull  to  point  a  paragraph. 
Half-truths  hold  the  stage,  and  divide  the  al- 
legiance of  mankind  among  them.  Thus,  instead 
of  agreeing  that  we  are  somewhere  in  the  middle 
of  progress,  with  something  done  and  something 
yet  to  do,  opinion  is  divided  between  the  old  and 
the  young,  between  those  who  believe  that  the 
world  is  rapidly  approaching  its  end  and  those 
who  believe  that  it  has  just  begun.  Optimist 
and  pessimist,  anarchist  and  reactionary,  atheist 
and  bigot,  feminist  and  misogynist,  these  are 
some  of  the  character-parts  which  the  human 
mind  admires  and  loves  to  assume.  The  present 
crisis  in  human  affairs  has  given  a  fearful  urgency 
to  two  great  human  problems.  First,  how  shall 
one  be  secure  and  yet  peaceful?  Second,  how 
shall  we  act  in  concert  and  yet  remain  free  in- 


viii  PREFACE 

dividuals?  In  each  case  the  solution  of  the 
problem  requires  the  reconciliation  of  two  in- 
dispensable values.  And  yet  men  divide  them- 
selves into  parties  and  become  blind  to  one  of 
these  values  through  excess  of  zeal  for  the  other. 
Thus  militarists  for  security's  sake  abandon  the 
ideal  of  peace,  and  pacifists  for  the  sake  of  peace 
shut  their  eyes  to  violence  and  danger.  Or  in- 
dividualists in  the  name  of  freedom  protest 
against  organization  and  authority;  while  na- 
tionalists from  love  of  country  forget  that  no 
country  is  worthy  of  being  loved  that  is  not  the 
home  of  independent  and  happy  individuals. 
Thus  the  solid  truth  escapes  notice,  from  too 
much  looking  at  one  or  another  of  its  flat  sur- 
faces. Even  if  the  truth  be  hard  to  win,  it  is 
worth  something  to  see  it  on  both  sides  and  to 
comprehend  its  dimensions.  Whatever  be  sound 
policy  in  the  present  crisis  it  must  provide  a 
way  by  which  liberty  and  peace  shall  be  con- 
sistent with  solidarity  and  strength;  by  which 
a  man  may  take  his  place  as  a  soldier  in  the 
ranks,  and  yet  remain  free. 

Essays  I,  II,  IV,  and  V  have  appeared  in  part 
in  The  New  Republic  ;  VI  and  XI  in  The  Atlantic 
Monthly;  VII  in    The  International  Journal  of 


PREFACE  ix 

Ethics  ;  VIII  in  The  New  York  Times ;  X  in  The 
Forum  ;  and  XII  in  Harper's  Weekly.  My  thanks 
are  due  to  the  editors  of  these  periodicals  for  per- 
mission to  reprint. 

Ralph  Barton  Perry. 

Cambridge,  Massv  June  15,  1916. 


CONTENTS 


PAGE 


Preface vii 

I.  The  Free  Man  and  the  Soldier       .     .  3 

II.  The  Vigil  of  Arms 15 

III.  The  Tolerant  Nation 44 

IV.  Impressions  of  a  Plattsburg  Recruit  .  73 
V.  The  Fact  of  War  and  the  Hope  of  Peace  83 

VI.  What  Is  Worth  Fighting  For?    ...  95 

VII.  Non-Resistance  and  the  Present  War  123 

VIII.  Who  is  Responsible? 138 

DC.  The  University  and  the  Individual  .     .  152 

X.  Education  for  Freedom 176 

XI.  The  Useless  Virtues 195 

XII.  The  Condescending  Man  and  the  Ob- 
structive Woman 214 


THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 


THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

WHEN  General  Miles  on  a  recent  occasion 
expressed  himself  as  opposed  to  universal 
military  service,  he  was  quoted  as  saying  that 
the  American  people  would  never  allow  them- 
selves to  be  "Prussianized."  It  is  customary  to 
say  that  if  a  people  is  to  be  trained  to  arms  they 
must  become  spiritually  or  fundamentally  "regi- 
mented." This  dictum  has  usually  passed  un- 
challenged. It  is  regarded  as  a  sort  of  axiom, 
which  even  the  extremest  advocates  of  prepared- 
ness are  rarely  bold  enough  to  deny.  And  yet 
curiously  enough,  even  the  superficial  facts  are 
against  it.  Thus,  whatever  we  mean  by  that 
individualism  which  we  prize,  we  do  not  look  to 
China  for  examples  of  it.  China,  whether  justly 
or  unjustly,  signifies  to  Occidental  minds  that 
very  uniformity  and  stagnation  which  points  the 
moral,  and  yet  China  is  notable  among  the  na- 
tions for  its  lack  of  military  discipline.  France, 
on  the  other  hand,  was  for  centuries  the  most 

3 


4    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

soldierly  nation  of  Europe,  and  has  in  recent 
years  made  the  most  exacting  military  demands 
upon  her  citizens.  Yet  France  remains  pre- 
eminently liberal  and  cosmopolitan.  France  is 
a  perpetual  source  of  novelty,  of  modernisms  and 
futurisms,  of  those  departures  from  tradition  and 
type,  those  excesses  and  daring  conceits  which 
scandalize  and  inspire,  and  which  spring  from  a 
free  mind  roaming  at  large  in  its  world. 

What  shall  we  say  of  ourselves  ?  We  have  been 
let  alone  for  half  a  century.  No  drill-master  has 
taught  us  to  keep  alignments  and  intervals  or 
to  step  a  regulation  thirty  inches.  No  bugle- 
call  has  intruded  upon  our  private  affairs  and 
summoned  us  to  march  the  same  road.  We  have 
not  been  swept  by  collective  passion  or  articu- 
lated in  any  smooth-working  mechanism.  But 
what  have  we  been  doing?  Have  we  become  in- 
dividuals ?  Are  we  eminent  among  the  nations  as 
a  race  of  ample  personalities?  Are  our  laboring 
men  notable  for  self-respect  and  self-sufficiency? 
Does  our  leisured  class  breed  creative  genius, 
or  our  political  life  leadership  and  constructive 
statesmanship?  WTiat,  then,  is  this  individualism 
which  we  are  so  afraid  to  lose? 

Let  us  be  willing  to  say  of  ourselves  what  we 
would  not  unnaturally  resent  if  it  were  uttered 


THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER  5 

by  an  alien  critic.  We  are  a  bit  sodden,  a  bit  too 
fond  of  what  money  will  buy.  We  are  not  guilt- 
less of  hiring  an  army  in  order  to  enjoy  our  Cartha- 
ginian ease.  We  enjoy  irresponsibility  as  the 
child  enjoys  it.  Some  few,  having  a  day  full  of 
"engagements"  and  pastimes,  would  like  to  be 
left  uninterrupted.  The  great  majority  are  sol- 
aced by  the  hope  of  rising  in  life  to  the  same 
privilege  or  are  embittered  by  their  exclusion 
from  it.  The  absence  of  discipline  has  not,  then, 
perfected  us  as  individuals,  though  it  may  have 
tolerated  our  selfishness  and  spread  wide  the 
envious  hope  of  making  a  fortune.  Indeed,  the 
absence  of  a  more  conscious  and  rational  col- 
lectivism has  rendered  us  peculiarly  defenseless 
against  factional  solidarities,  against  vogues  and 
fads,  against  contagious  sentimentalities  and  un- 
scrupulous demagoguery.  We  are  notoriously 
afraid  of  the  mass  opinion  that  we  help  to  create. 
We  have  the  greatest  respect  for  the  normal,  and 
are  quick  to  catch  and  echo  the  popular  note. 
There  are  so  many  ears  to  the  ground  that  there 
is  often  nothing  to  hear  except  the  confused 
noise  created  by  so  much  listening. 

When  we  turn  to  our  political  liberties,  on  the 
other  hand,  we  can  speak  with  greater  confidence. 
Liberty  of  the  press,  trial  by  jury,  freedom  of 


6  THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

speech,  popular  government,  self-respecting  civic 
autonomy,  these  are  solid  goods.  These  we 
justly  believe  to  be  spiritual  achievements,  by 
which  we  would  like  history  to  know  us.  But 
these  are  collective  achievements,  founded  in 
organization  and  secured  by  organization.  We 
do  not  owe  them  to  our  laxity  and  incohesiveness, 
but  to  constitutions  and  to  laws.  They  exist  not 
by  virtue  of  private  self-assertion,  but  by  virtue 
of  a  disciplined  regard  for  the  rights  of  others. 
We  owe  them  to  that  tradition  and  experience 
which  impels  us  with  loyal  accord  to  support  a 
system  that  defines  our  mutual  relations  and 
establishes  our  collective  life. 

If  we  cannot  point  to  ourselves  as  bright  ex- 
amples of  the  blessings  of  undisciplined  freedom, 
there  remains,  perhaps,  the  example  of  England, 
or  the  contrast  of  England  and  Germany.  The 
war  has  already  proved  the  necessity,  for  specif- 
ically military  purposes,  of  national  organiza- 
tion and  universal  service.  If  the  Allies  win  the 
war  it  will  be  because  having  tardily  acquired 
these  virtues  they  enjoy  certain  residual  advan- 
tages as  well.  But  while  this  is  granted,  it  will 
be  said  that  England  has  owed  her  superior  in- 
dividualism to  her  lack  of  just  such  military 
organization  and  discipline,  and  that  Germany 


THE   FREE   MAN  AND   THE   SOLDIER     7 

has  sacrificed  individualism  in  order  to  possess 
them.  Now  I  am  one  of  those  who  believe  that 
England  does  possess  an  individualism  which 
Germany  lacks,  and  that  this  individualism  is  a 
mark  of  superiority.  Even  this  is  not  unqualifiedly 
true  in  view  of  the  degree  of  snobbery  and  class 
antagonism  which  mars  the  democracy  of  Eng- 
land. But  the  fact  remains  that  England  is  pre- 
eminently the  home  of  men  who  know  their  rights 
and  who  sturdily  insist  upon  them.  Through 
combining  independence  with  steadiness  and 
practical  sagacity,  England  has  forged  our  con- 
stitutional liberties,  has  disseminated  the  spirit 
of  tolerance  and  self-criticism,  and  has  insisted 
upon  owning  and  using  her  institutions  instead 
of  being  enslaved  or  absorbed  by  them.  In  Ger- 
many, on  the  other  hand,  there  is  a  certain  political 
flabbiness,  which  tolerates  authority  too  easily. 
Even  art,  science,  and  religion,  which  ought  to 
emancipate  the  individual,  have  become  a  means 
of  confirming  and  sanctifying  his  submission. 

If  this  be  the  case,  it  is  nevertheless  important 
to  avoid  confusing  causes  and  effects,  or  assum- 
ing without  reason  that  things  which  happen  to- 
gether are  therefore  causally  and  inseparably  re- 
lated. The  Englishman's  opposition  to  universal 
military  service  is  undoubtedly  associated  in  his 


8  THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

own  mind  with  the  individualism  he  admires 
and  claims  as  his  own.  But  the  opposition  is 
not,  I  think,  so  much  a  logical  defense  of  his 
individualism  as  a  temperamental  expression  of 
it,  a  sort  of  psychological  by-product.  He  would 
prefer  to  serve  his  country  in  war  just  as  he 
would  prefer  to  do  anything  else,  as  a  matter  of 
"  sport,"  or  from  the  motive  of  noblesse  oblige, 
or  out  of  fondness  for  tradition.  He  doesn't  like 
anything  that  looks  too  orderly  and  prescribed, 
too  freshly  and  deliberately  made.  He  is  fond 
of  his  crotchets,  and  regards  reason  as  a  sort  of 
parvenu.  Trollope  wrote  of  one  of  his  more 
doubtful  characters:  "He  isn't  of  our  sort.  He's 
too  clever,  too  cosmopolitan — a  sort  of  man 
whitewashed  of  all  prejudices,  who  wouldn't 
mind  whether  he  ate  horseflesh  or  beef  if  horse- 
flesh were  as  good  as  beef,  and  never  had  an  as- 
sociation in  his  life."  Universal  military  train- 
ing is  too  rational,  too  schematic,  too  exclusively 
mindful  of  the  bare  utilities  and  essentials.  The 
Englishman  shrinks  from  it  as  he  shrinks  from  an 
adequate  national  system  of  education,  or  from 
the  metric  system,  or  from  phonetic  spelling. 
If  it  could  only  become  a  tradition  like  royalty 
and  the  top-hat,  or  an  adventure  like  governing 
India  and  playing  football,  or  a  matter  of  instinct 


THE   FREE   MAN  AND   THE   SOLDIER     9 

like  the  morning  tub,  he  would  cling  to  it  until 
it  had  long  since  become  obsolete.  For  the  mili- 
tary virtues  in  themselves  are  unobjectionable. 
It  is  not  the  substance  of  the  thing,  but  rather 
the  deliberate  act  of  adoption  that  is  repugnant 
to  English  individualism.  It  is  impossible  to 
believe  that  once  in  vogue  such  a  system  would 
in  the  least  abridge  an  Englishman's  essential 
liberties  or  seriously  alter  the  peculiar  tone  of 
his  national  life. 

That  it  is  the  methodical  rather  than  the  com- 
pulsory element  in  a  universal  system  of  training 
and  service  which  has  stood  in  the  way  of  its 
acceptance  in  England,  appears  in  the  readiness 
with  which  the  pressure  of  public  opinion  is  used 
as  a  means  of  coercion.  The  voluntary  theory 
implies  that  men  shall  volunteer.  It  does  not 
mean  that  men  shall  freely  choose  to  serve  or 
not  to  serve,  according  to  taste  or  aptitude,  but 
that  they  shall  choose  service  according  as  na- 
tional exigencies  shall  dictate.  In  practise  this 
leads  inevitably  to  the  ugliest  sort  of  coercion. 
Many  men  who  nominally  volunteer  are  as  a 
matter  of  fact  shamed  into  it.  They  are  shamed 
into  it  at  first  by  example.  If  that  does  not  suffice 
they  are  called  hard  names,  such  as  "slackers." 
Unorganized  pressure  gives  place  in  time  to  or- 


io    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

ganized  pressure.  Among  those  who  are  thus 
systematically  persecuted  are  many  who  not  un- 
naturally resent  an  interference  with  what  they 
have  been  taught  to  believe  is  their  just  liberty  of 
action.  The  remnant  thus  harried  and  cornered 
is  eventually  coerced  by  conscription;  which 
when  thus  arrived  at,  as  a  measure  of  last  resort, 
is  unblushing  tyranny.  The  whole  process,  in 
short,  is  one  of  first  conferring  rights  and  then 
outraging  them  by  sheer  force.  Where,  on  the 
other  hand,  the  state  is  legally  entitled  to  the 
military  service  of  its  citizens,  as  it  is  entitled  to 
some  fraction  of  their  property,  military  service 
is  taken  for  granted.  It  is  acknowledged  as  an 
obligation,  and  is  sustained  by  the  law-abiding 
habits  of  the  community.  It  is  accepted  in  the 
spirit  of  fair  play,  as  part  of  that  general  order 
of  life  which  a  free  man  accepts  as  a  contracting 
beneficiary. 

Universal  military  service  is  otherwise  opposed 
in  England  for  economic  reasons  of  a  very  different 
sort.  The  laboring  man  not  unjustly  feels  that  he 
is  a  creditor  and  not  a  debtor  in  his  relations  to 
the  state.  To  him  compulsory  service  savors  of 
tyranny  because  it  is  imposed  upon  him  by  an 
authority  that  has  neglected  him.  The  tradition 
of  laissez-faire,  which  has  taught  him  that  he 


THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER     n 

must  look  out  for  himself,  has  not  taught  him  to 
be  grateful.  In  so  far  as  the  state  absolves  itself 
of  responsibility  it  can  impose  no  obligations. 
The  moral  of  this  difficulty  is  not  that  universal 
military  service  should  therefore  be  rejected,  but 
that  the  state  should  inspire  and  deserve  the 
loyalty  of  its  citizens  through  a  just  regard  for 
their  needs.  Indeed,  we  are  brought  back  to  a 
much  more  fundamental  and  far-reaching  ques- 
tion than  any  which  concerns  merely  military 
exigencies  alone.  Laissez-faire  fosters  a  com- 
placent selfishness  among  the  successful,  an  ag- 
gressive selfishness  among  the  hopeful,  an  envious 
selfishness  among  those  who  are  unsuccessful,  and 
a  bitter  selfishness  among  those  who  are  hopeless. 
If  this  be  individualism,  the  less  of  it  the  better. 
Neither  its  spirit  nor  its  fruits  are  to  be  numbered 
among  the  blessings  of  English  civilization.  And 
in  so  far  as  it  operates  as  a  cause  of  opposition 
to  universal  military  service,  it  argues  for  rather 
than  against  such  a  system. 

If  England  affords  no  evidence  that  the  absence 
of  universal  military  service  is  the  cause  of  an 
individualism  that  is  worthy  and  admirable,  it 
will  yet  be  argued  that  Germany  illustrates  the 
blighting  effects  of  its  adoption.  That  the  mili- 
tary system  of  Germany  forms  part  of  a  dynastic, 


12     THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

bureaucratic  and  cultural  system  which  as  a  whole 
is  prejudicial  to  the  best  individualism  does  not, 
I  think,  require  proof.  One  does  not  look  to 
Germany  for  a  tolerant  cosmopolitanism,  or  for 
a  jealous  insistence  upon  the  great  civil  liberties. 
But  this  is  not  a  direct  and  necessary  consequence 
of  its  military  mechanism.  It  is  due  to  the  pur- 
pose which  directs  that  mechanism:  to  the  spirit 
which  dominates  it,  and  the  use  which  is  made  of 
it.  The  deeper  causes  are  to  be  found  in  the 
Prussian  traditions  of  conquest  and  dynastic 
right,  in  the  Germanic  philosophy  of  the  state  as 
absorbing  and  superseding  its  citizens,  and  per- 
haps in  a  racial  propensity  to  domineer.  These 
ideas  find  in  the  military  system  a  harsh  and  ef- 
fective mode  of  expression.  But  the  army  is  the 
instrument  and  not  the  cause.  A  fraternal  and 
chivalrous  people  like  the  French  have  created 
a  fraternal  and  chivalrous  army.  An  unaggressive 
and  home-loving  people  like  the  Swiss  have 
created  a  defensive  army.  A  democratic  and 
radical  people  like  the  Australians  have  adapted 
a  national  military  system  to  their  ideals  of  pop- 
ular government  and  the  dignity  of  labor. 

Military  preparedness  in  itself  means  nothing 
more  than  foresight  and  organization  applied  to 
the  contingency  of  war.    The  alternative  is  blind- 


THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER     13 

ness  and  confusion.  War  is  an  actuality  and  a 
genuine  peril.  It  is,  furthermore,  a  peril  which 
threatens  the  collective  life;  there  is  no  interest, 
however  exalted,  that  is  immune.  Preparedness 
is  therefore  every  man's  concern.  A  national 
system  of  training  and  service  is  simply  the  re- 
sponsible, concerted,  and  effective  way  of  meeting 
this  peril.  But  the  spirit  which  animates  a  mili- 
tary organization,  on  the  other  hand,  will  reflect 
the  interests  which  men  desire  to  safeguard.  If 
we  in  America  desire  to  be  and  remain  free,  if 
there  is  a  peculiar  tone  of  personal  independence 
and  equality  that  is  the  breath  of  life  to  us,  then 
that  is  the  end  to  which  our  military  organization 
will  be  consecrated,  and  that  is  the  spirit  which 
we  shall  carry  with  us  into  it.  If  we  are  to  be 
free,  we  must  be  safely  and  effectively  free.  There 
must  be  a  place  secured  for  freedom,  and  to  secure 
that  freedom,  free  men  may  be  soldiers. 

A  deliberate  and  rational  concert  of  action  does 
not  hamper  individuality.  If  there  is  any  one  in- 
controvertible principle  that  governs  life,  it  is 
this :  that  freedom  does  not  come  of  letting  things 
take  their  course.  Free  individuals  are  not  spon- 
taneously generated  by  the  bare  removal  of  re- 
strictions; they  are  the  products  of  discipline 
and  order.     A  freedom  that  knows  no  bounds  is 


i4    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

the  conceit  of  impatient  and  careless  minds.  A 
military  system  that  is  imposed  from  without,  or 
hastily  improvised  in  a  moment  of  panic,  may  in- 
deed be  tyrannical.  But  a  system  freely  adopted, 
in  order  to  do  loyally  and  skilfully  that  which 
must  be  done,  is  primarily  a  matter  of  morale  and 
character.  Over  and  above  that  it  will  vary  with 
the  genius  and  aims  of  the  people  who  create  it 
and  enter  into  it. 

Since  war  is  an  actuality  and  a  genuine  peril, 
let  us  soberly  undertake  the  burden  it  imposes. 
Let  us  cultivate  the  soldierly  qualities,  and  let  us 
equip  ourselves  with  the  tools  which  are  effective 
in  modern  warfare.  Let  us  acquire  the  capacity 
for  organized  action,  and  be  ready  for  the  occasion 
which  a  rational  man  will  both  fear  and  deprecate. 
But  let  us  be  such  soldiers  as  we  would  be  men. 
If  we  are  lovers  of  liberty  and  devotees  of  peace, 
let  us  inscribe  these  ideals  on  our  banners. 


II 

THE  VIGIL  OF  ARMS 

IT  was  thought  appropriate  that  a  man  should 
pass  the  eve  of  his  knighthood  "bestowing 
himself  in  orisons  and  prayers."  A  knight  should 
be  a  good  knight,  "a  noble  and  gentle  knight" — 
one  dedicated  to  service  and  jealous  of  honor. 
Power  is  admirable  only  when  restrained.  Phys- 
ical strength  in  a  man  is  justified  only  by  the 
weakness  which  it  succors,  by  the  incorporeal 
things  to  which  it  gives  a  body.  Unless  their  use 
is  redeemed  by  necessity  or  by  some  humane 
cause,  arms  are  merely  cruel  and  mischievous. 
The  sentiments  and  symbols  associated  with  war 
are  ways  of  recognizing  its  inherent  hatefulness. 
They  are  the  means  of  concealing  the  ugly  truth 
that  arms  are  devised  to  kill  with.  If  the  use  of 
arms  can  be  judged  even  tolerable  it  must  be  be- 
cause of  the  soldier's  code  and  the  soldier's  cause. 
Hence  a  nation  about  to  arm  itself  should 
confess  its  sins  and  renew  allegiance  to  its  ideals. 
The  knight  took  vows  to  protect  the  holy  sepul- 
chre, "to  maintain  and  defend  all  ladies,  gentle- 

15 


16  THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

women,  orphans,  widows,  women  distressed  and 
abandoned,"  or  to  perfect  himself  in  purity, 
fidelity  and  honesty.  It  will  not  do  to  substitute 
for  a  code  so  exacting  as  that  of  chivalry,  or  a 
cause  so  clear  as  that  of  the  crusades,  a  mere  in- 
determinate vow  of  patriotism.  Loyalty  to  one's 
country,  unless  one  understands  its  policy  and 
helps  to  mould  it,  is  simply  a  shirking  of  the 
prior  obligation  to  think  for  oneself. 

Military  service  is  at  once  a  necessity,  a  good 
and  a  danger.  But  it  is  primarily  a  necessity. 
By  this  I  mean  that  it  is  justified  only  as  a  means 
to  an  imperative  end.  It  is  not  to  be  undertaken 
for  itself,  nor  is  it  lightly  to  be  adopted  as  a 
means.  Nothing  short  of  national  safety  or  some 
higher  design  of  international  justice  and  order, 
can  make  it  reasonable  to  cultivate  the  art  of 
destruction.  But  since  military  service  is  so 
justified,  as  a  painful  necessity  like  surgery,  cap- 
ital punishment  or  self-sacrifice,  it  is  reasonable 
that  it  should  be  done  well,  and  soberly  under- 
taken as  a  function  of  the  state.  In  a  democracy 
this  means  that  it  should  be  acknowledged  and 
assumed  as  an  obligation  by  all  citizens.  For 
democracy  implies  that  there  shall  be  neither 
privilege  nor  immunity.  "All  the  inhabitants  of 
the  state  are  its  defenders  by  birth,"  said  Scharn- 


THE  VIGIL  OF  ARMS  17 

horst.  If  this  could  be  said  of  Prussia,  it  can  be 
said  with  greater  reason  of  a  country  like  our 
own  which  proclaims  the  principle  of  civic  equal- 
ity. 

The  scale  and  the  method  of  modern  warfare 
make  universal  training  not  only  an  appropriate 
means,  but  an  indispensable  means.  An  untrained 
nation  depending  on  a  small  professional  army  or 
on  a  horde  of  "embattled  farmers"  and  other  in- 
dignant citizens,  presents  the  same  pitiful  spec- 
tacle as  that  afforded  by  the  dervishes  who  fought 
Kitchener  with  spears  at  Omdurman.  An  armed 
man  attacked  with  the  naked  fist,  shot  and  shell 
opposed  by  bows  and  arrows,  men  trained  to 
use  the  most  improved  implements  of  war  re- 
sisted by  equally  brave  men  who  have  hith- 
erto handled  nothing  but  a  hammer,  spade, 
trowel,  tennis-racket,  billiard-cue  or  umbrella — 
this  is  not  magnificent,  or  even  absurd;  it  is 
heart-breaking.  Those  who  make  it  possible  by 
their  stubborn  complacency  or  irrelevant  idealism, 
are  in  effect  as  culpable  as  those  who,  because 
they  preferred  the  individual  to  the  group,  and 
counted  the  soul's  culture  more  important  than 
mere  bodily  safety,  might  consent  that  undrilled 
children  should  crowd  an  inflammable  school- 
house. 


18    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

The  opposition  to  universal  training,  like  the 
opposition  to  more  limited  forms  of  preparedness, 
is  due  more  to  ignorance  than  to  principle.  Thus 
our  recently  appointed  Secretary  of  War  confesses 
that  he  has  changed  his  ideas  as  to  the  sufficiency 
of  our  military  resources.  He  is  reported  to  have 
said  that  "it  is  simply  a  matter  of  getting  in- 
formation."1 He  has  discovered  that  a  slight 
additional  complication  on  the  Mexican  border 
would  make  it  necessary  to  call  upon  "the  entire 
standing  army  of  the  United  States."  "  One 
cannot,"  he  adds  sagely,  "  consider  such  facts  as 
that  from  an  inside  angle  without  realizing  that 
our  army  would  be  totally  inadequate  to  handle 
a  real  war  difficulty!"  The  naivete  of  this  con- 
fession is  astounding.  One  would  have  supposed 
that  by  putting  two  and  two  together,  and  re- 
peating the  operation  a  few  times,  Mr.  Baker 
might  have  reached  the  same  conclusion  without 
being  admitted  to  the  "inside."  What  must  be 
the  feeling  of  those  who  have  mastered  the 
technic  of  military  art,  those  army  chiefs  who, 
as  Secretary  Baker  has  also  discovered,  are  not 
spoiling  for  war  but  are  simply  trained  and 
thoughtful  men  who  feel  responsible  for  a  cer- 

1  From  an  interview  by  Fred  C.  Kelly,  published  in  Harper's 
Weekly  for  April  22,  1916. 


THE  VIGIL  OF  ARMS  19 

tain  branch  of  the  national  service — what  must 
be  their  feeling  as  this  new  scholar  publicly  re- 
cites his  alphabet  with  all  the  airs  of  profound 
insight ! 

A  policy  of  adequate  military  preparedness  is 
not,  except  for  those  few  persons  who  profess 
non-resistance,  a  question  of  principle,  but  of 
prudence  and  expediency.  To  be  converted  to  it, 
it  is  only  necessary  to  learn  by  experience,  to 
observe  facts  and  make  inferences,  and  to  govern 
one's  present  actions  by  a  sane  regard  for  future 
contingencies.  In  other  words,  it  is  merely  a 
question  of  being  normally  intelligent  about  the 
hazard  of  war.  Even  universal  military  training 
is,  I  believe,  dictated  by  mere  prudence,  quite 
apart  from  the  wholesomeness  and  fairness  of 
having  the  duty  of  defense  undertaken  jointly 
by  all  whose  interest  is  at  stake. 

There  is  gradually  unfolding1  in  England  a 
most  impressive,  and,  to  all  friends  of  England,  a 
most  distressing  object-lesson  in  the  failure  of  the 
voluntary  system.  This  system  creates  the  very 
resistance  that  it  has  to  overcome.  Events  have 
proved,  it  seems  to  me  quite  unmistakably,  that 
there  is  no  real  choice  between  compulsory  service 
and  voluntary  service,  but  only  between  compul- 

1  Written  in  March,  1916. 


20    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

sion  in  advance,  as  a  part  of  the  deliberate  policy 
of  the  state,  and  compulsion  in  the  midst  of  the 
national  crisis.  In  the  latter  case  it  is  too  late 
to  be  fully  effective,  and  is  imposed  unexpectedly 
upon  those  who  are  by  elimination  the  most  un- 
willing to  serve,  and  who  have  been  taught  to 
believe  that  compulsory  service  is  contrary  to 
the  political  principles  under  which  they  live. 

Granting  universal  military  duty  to  be  the  ef- 
fectual as  well  as  the  democratic  way  of  doing 
what  must  be  done,  it  follows  that  it  is  reason- 
able to  make  a  virtue  of  necessity.  And  here  it 
is  proper  to  argue  the  educational  benefits  of 
military  training.  That  such  benefits  do  accrue, 
no  one  who  has  had  the  least  experience  will 
deny.  Prompt  obedience,  the  economy  of  time, 
power  to  work  effectively  with  all  sorts  of  men, 
the  ignoring  of  minor  vexations  and  discomforts, 
self-sufficiency  as  regards  the  elementary  things 
of  life,  physical  health  and  endurance,  manual 
expertness — these  are  some  of  the  lessons  that 
are  learned  in  the  school  of  war.  They  are  not 
carried  away  in  note-books  but  under  the  skin 
in  nerve  and  muscle.  The  greatest  lesson  of  all 
is  the  habit  of  thinking  nationally,  the  feeling 
that  one  has  a  country,  and  that  one  owes  it 
something.    A  man  then  makes  the  acquaintance 


THE  VIGIL  OF  ARMS  21 

of  his  country  as  a  whole,  and  for  once,  at  least, 
looks  it  in  the  face. 

Now  there  are  doubtless  other  ways  in  which 
this  national-mindedness  may  be  cultivated.  Pro- 
fessor Dewey  has  proposed  the  centralization  of 
the  educational  system,  and  Mr.  Walter  Lipp- 
mann  has  proposed  the  government  ownership  of 
railways.1  It  can  be  urged  against  any  of  these 
proposals,  including  that  of  universal  military 
training,  that  it  implies  the  existence  of  that 
very  national-mindedness  which  it  is  supposed 
to  promote.  There  is  evidently  a  circle  that  has 
got  to  be  broken  somewhere.  A  general  national 
policy,  foreign  and  domestic,  for  peace  and  for 
war,  in  education  and  in  economic  life,  will  de- 
velop rapidly  when  once  the  federal  authority  is 
an  object  of  loyalty  and  confidence;  and  when 
on  its  part  it  serves  the  people  with  greater  fore- 
sight, with  a  broader  grasp  of  the  total  situation, 
and  with  a  more  serious  sense  of  responsibility. 
But  this  new  state  of  things  cannot  be  certainly 
achieved  by  any  single  act  or  propaganda.  No 
man  can  tell  where  the  existing  habits  are  weakest 
and  may  most  easily  be  overthrown,  or  what 
may  appeal  most  vividly  to  the  imagination  of 
the  people.    If  educational  and  economic  reform 

1  The  New  Republic,  for  February  19  and  April  15,  1916. 


22     THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

can  break  the  circle,  by  all  means  let  them  go 
forward.  Meanwhile  the  spectacular  tragedy  of 
war,  and  the  sudden  necessity  of  thinking  polit- 
ically upon  the  larger  international  scale,  have 
already  done  much  to  arouse  us  from  our  sepa- 
ratism and  complacency.  There  is  a  spreading 
belief  that  if  we  are  to  take  part  in  the  making 
of  history  we  must  acquire  the  strength  to  do  it. 
Military  training,  or  some  other  exercise  to  make 
oneself  fit  for  national  service,  is  a  natural  out- 
growth of  the  desire  to  act  in  this  great  crisis 
when  every  good  thing  is  in  jeopardy.  It  may 
well  be  that  this  emergency  will  enable  us  to 
find  ourselves;  and  that  from  marching  together, 
or  working  together  to  make  the  nation  strong, 
we  shall  get  a  new  sense  of  comradeship  and  of 
partnership  that  shall  in  the  end  revolutionize 
our  culture  and  our  social  order. 

But  it  is  neither  the  necessity  of  military  ser- 
vice, nor  the  virtue  that  may  be  made  of  this 
necessity,  with  which  I  want  here  more  especially 
to  deal.  Military  service  has  also  its  attendant 
dangers.  I  urge  them  not  as  arguments  against 
it,  but  as  abuses  to  be  avoided.  If  there  is  any 
institution  that  is  an  unmixed  blessing,  I  have 
never  heard  of  it.  It  is  not  religion,  for  example, 
or   conscience,   or   art,   or   government.     Every 


THE  VIGIL  OF  ARMS  23 

political  or  social  policy  has  its  dangers;  democ- 
racy itself  has,  perhaps,  the  most  insidious  dan- 
gers of  all.  But  we  do  not  abandon  such  policies 
when  we  have  reason  to  believe  that  they  are 
necessary,  or  are  the  most  hopeful  alternatives 
open  to  us.  We  adopt  them,  and  then  seek  so 
far  as  possible  to  offset  the  attendant  dangers. 
This  we  can  do  all  the  better  for  being  put  on 
our  guard. 

So  in  the  case  of  universal  military  service  I 
shall  summarize  its  dangers  not  in  order  to  throw 
them  in  the  balance  against  it,  but  in  order  to 
suggest  positive  measures  by  which  these  dangers 
can  be  avoided.  If  as  a  nation  we  are  to  take  up 
arms,  or  even  exercise  ourselves  in  their  use,  it 
must  be  with  a  certain  solemnity.  Arms  are 
edged  tools;  they  are  not  playthings.  If  we  are 
to  acquire  their  use  we  must  learn  to  use  them 
safely,  and  only  for  a  serious  purpose.  We  must 
take  measures  to  prevent  their  abuse,  and  to 
safeguard  the  superior  interests  which  they  might 
otherwise  injure.  Their  use  must  be  adjusted  to 
those  ends  that  justify  our  national  existence. 
Military  service  should  not  only  be  dedicated  to 
the  highest  end  within  the  range  of  our  present 
moral  vision,  but  it  should  be  informed  with 
whatever  human  quality  we  think  is  finest,  and 


24    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

corrected  or  offset  by  whatever  measures  may 
effectually  protect  our  liberties  and  minimize  the 
inevitable  sacrifice. 

There  never  was  a  greater  need  than  now  of  a 
comprehensive  policy.  The  vivid  fact  of  war  and 
the  new  historical  crisis  have  already  upset  our 
equilibrium — despite  every  attempt  on  our  part 
to  hold  aloof.  New  national  policies  are  inevit- 
able, and  have,  in  fact,  already  been  inaugurated. 
It  is  necessary,  therefore,  as  though  we  were 
moving  into  a  new  house  in  a  more  thickly  settled 
neighborhood,  to  see  to  it  that  there  are  rooms 
for  all  the  family,  places  for  our  possessions,  and 
shrines  for  our  gods.  In  particular,  how  shall  we 
be  as  strong  as  the  hazard  of  war  requires  with 
the  least  prejudice  to  our  peaceful  pursuits  and 
our  constructive  humane  ends?  It  is  the  impor- 
tance, here  and  now,  of  such  a  stock-taking  and 
reckoning  of  cost  that  will  justify,  I  hope,  the 
rehearsal  of  familiar  truisms. 

i.  The  American  army  should  both  be  ded- 
icated to  the  service  of  democracy,  and  also  be 
itself  an  example  of  democracy.  Democracy  is  on 
trial,  as  it  has  been  many  times  before.  Usually 
the  jury  has  disagreed.  The  charge  has  always 
been  the  same,  namely,  that  democracy  implies 
a  lack  of  organization  which  breeds  lawlessness, 


THE   VIGIL   OF  ARMS  25 

corruption  and  weakness.  Just  now  it  is  a  ques- 
tion whether  a  democracy  can  survive.  Can  it 
unite  with  liberty,  equality  and  fraternity,  enough 
strength  to  enable  it  to  hold  its  own  among  gov- 
ernments which  enjoy  a  greater  concentration  of 
power,  and  which  can  avail  themselves  of  general 
habits  of  subordination  and  obedience?  Can  a 
house  be  governed  by  discussion  without  being 
divided  against  itself  and  suffering  the  proverbial 
penalty?  The  future  alone  holds  the  answer. 
But  this  much  is  evident — that  unless  a  democ- 
racy can  be  strong  it  cannot  be  said  to  have  suc- 
ceeded at  all.  Therefore,  whoever  devotes  him- 
self to  democracy  must  seek  ways  of  making  it 
strong.  He  who  neglects  the  question  of  mili- 
tary preparedness  fails  not  only  to  solve  the 
problem  of  democracy  but  even  to  grasp  it.  A 
democratic  government  must  be  able  to  do  what 
other  governments  do,  namely,  provide  security 
against  attack  from  abroad,  and  the  necessary 
mechanism  and  organization  by  which  the  na- 
tion may  exert  its  united  strength  when  occasion 
requires.  A  democracy  which  relies  for  the 
execution  of  its  policies  on  the  indulgence  or 
accidental  interest  of  other  nations,  is  a  con- 
fessed failure.  If,  for  example,  we  wish  to  de- 
fend Belgium  against  Germany  but  have  to  call 


26    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

upon  France  to  do  it  for  us;  if  we  avow  the 
Monroe  Doctrine  but  trust  that  if  it  comes  to 
blows  the  English  fleet  will  help  us  out;  then  our 
government  has  failed,  whatever  liberty  of  speech 
and  thought  we  may  enjoy  in  our  domestic  af- 
fairs. To  prove  that  a  democracy  can  maintain 
itself,  protect  the  interests  under  its  charge,  and 
be  as  good  as  its  word,  is  then  the  service  which 
the  armed  force  of  a  democracy  owes  to  the 
cause  of  democracy. 

Like  all  of  the  agencies  of  the  central  govern- 
ment the  military  organization  is  in  danger  of 
spreading  the  error  that  the  state  is  an  end  in 
itself.  The  symbols  of  war,  the  flag,  martial 
music,  the  rhythm  of  parade,  all  of  these  tend 
to  beget  an  idolatrous  worship.  Democracy  is 
founded  on  the  principle  that  the  authority  of 
government  is  justified  only  by  the  benefits  which 
accrue  to  the  governed.  Democratic  patriotism 
is  not  a  blind  and  slavish  loyalty,  but  is 
mixed  with  a  strain  of  intelligent  self-interest 
and  providence.  A  democracy  must  not  allow 
its  head  to  be  turned  by  drum-beats  and  gold 
braid.  The  real  business  of  life  is  still  to  promote 
the  happiness  and  well-being  of  individual  men 
and  women.  The  agencies  of  war  as  well  as  those 
of  peace  must  be  regulated  and  rigorously  judged 


THE   VIGIL  OF  ARMS  27 

with  reference  to  this  end.  The  mere  emotional 
effervescence  of  the  war  spirit  must  not  be  al- 
lowed to  create  "The  Great  Illusion,"  or  any 
other  illusion  by  which  men  are  prevented  from 
recognizing  where  their  interest  lies.  Though 
the  immediate  object  of  military  loyalty  must 
be  the  state,  that  object  must  not  in  a  democ- 
racy be  worshipped  by  a  devotee  who  asks 
nothing  in  return,  but  rather  prized  by  one  who 
well  understands  its  beneficence. 

If  the  army  and  navy  are  not  to  subvert  the 
democracy  for  which  they  act,  they  must  be 
democratic  in  their  own  internal  spirit  and  or- 
ganization, without  loss  of  discipline.1  This  is 
by  no  means  impossible.  It  was  achieved  by 
the  French  armies  of  1792;  and,  if  we  are  to 
trust  the  reports,  has  been  again  achieved  by 
the  French  armies  of  to-day.  A  football  team  is 
not  less  democratic  for  its  team-work  or  for 
having  a  captain.  Each  individual  member  of 
the  team  feels  that  he  depends  on  all  the  rest, 
and  that  it  is  necessary  that  there  should  be  some 
one  to  lead  and  give  commands.    He  who  leads 

1  The  critics  of  universal  service  are  as  a  rule  silent  regarding 
the  objections  that  can  so  easily  be  urged  against  a  professional 
army.  A  hired  army  is  neither  so  representative,  nor  so  responsible, 
nor  so  voluntary  in  its  service  as  a  citizen  army.  There  is  a  very 
forcible  discussion  of  the  matter  in  F.  S.  Oliver's  Ordeal  by  Battle, 
part  IV,  chap.  VII. 


28    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

and  he  who  is  led  both  play  indispensable  parts 
and  serve  the  same  end.  So  in  a  democratic  army 
the  officer  and  the  private  are  comrades  because, 
each  doing  something  needful,  they  acknowledge 
one  another's  support  in  the  common  cause.  The 
officer  is  not  a  person  who  enjoys  privileges  so 
much  as  one  whose  duties  are  more  exacting  and 
more  responsible.  He  is  less  distinguished  by  his 
trappings  than  by  his  long  hours.  He  is  more 
bound  than  the  private,  who  looks  to  him  rather 
with  gratitude  than  with  envy. 

Responsible  leadership  and  prompt  concerted 
obedience  are  not  undemocratic  where  they  are 
pervaded  by  an  understanding  of  the  game,  and 
the  will  to  play  one's  part  in  it.  They  become 
undemocratic  only  when  the  difference  between 
officer  and  private  coincides  with  more  generally 
recognized  social  cleavages.  To  avoid  this  it 
is  necessary  that  officers  and  men  should  be 
recruited  from  the  same  social  classes,  so  that 
superiority  of  military  rank  should  be  identified 
only  with  superiority  in  military  skill,  or  with 
that  native  quality  of  leadership  which  is  inde- 
pendent of  breeding  or  culture.  It  is  important 
that  men  of  wealth  and  position  should  serve  in 
the  ranks,  and  that  men  who  are  favored  only 
by  their  military  experience  and  native  fitness 


THE  VIGIL  OF  ARMS  29 

should  rise  from  the  ranks  to  command  them. 
To  the  same  end  it  is  important  that  humiliating 
punishments  should  be  avoided,  and  the  author- 
ity of  officers  confined  within  clearly  recognized 
bounds,  so  as  to  protect  the  self-respect  of  privates 
from  the  abuse  or  caprice  of  authority.  In  short, 
a  democratic  army  must  owe  its  discipline  to 
morale  and  loyalty,  rather  than  to  harshness  and 
to  fear.  It  is  self-evident  that  there  is  most  hope 
of  fostering  this  spirit  in  an  army  of  citizens  con- 
scious both  of  the  equal  dignity  and  of  the  com- 
mon service  which  that  role  implies. 

In  his  famous  essay,  "On  Liberty,"  which  is 
still  the  best  specific  for  paternalism,  Mill  says 
that  a  free  people  must  be  "accustomed  to  trans- 
act their  own  business."  He  cites  the  resource- 
fulness of  the  French  in  times  of  revolution  as 
being  due  to  their  military  experience  and  the 
presence  everywhere  among  the  people  of  men 
who  have  been  non-commissioned  officers,  and 
who  have  therefore  a  capacity  to  lead  and  to 
organize  a  plan  of  action.  He  attributes  to 
Americans  a  like  resourcefulness  "in  every  kind 
of  civil  business,"  and  contrasts  France  and 
America  with  the  bureaucracy  in  which  "all  the 
experience  and  practical  ability  of  the  nation" 
has  been  organized  "into  a  disciplined  body  for 


30    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

the  purpose  of  governing  the  rest."  A  free  people 
must  be  a  people  in  which  potential  leadership 
is  everywhere  widely  diffused;  in  which  all  have 
some  aptitude  both  to  command  and  to  obey. 
The  personnel  of  the  military  organization  should 
therefore  be  in  some  degree  interchangeable. 
There  is  an  obvious  military  advantage  in  this 
because  it  creates  an  inexhaustible  reserve  of 
officers.  But  the  deeper  reason  for  it  lies  in  its 
divorcing  the  office  from  the  man,  and  substi- 
tuting a  subordination  of  position  for  personal  ar- 
rogance and  abasement.  It  should  serve  also  to 
keep  alive  within  the  breast  of  one  who  has  be- 
come for  the  time  a  colorless  unit  in  the  ranks 
the  peculiar  temperament  of  an  individual  and 
the  high  pretensions  of  a  man.  In  short,  a  democ- 
racy must  avoid  a  military  caste,  which  it  can 
best  do  by  making  the  people  its  own  army;  and 
it  must  avoid  an  official  caste,  which  it  can  best 
do  by  flexibility  of  organization,  frequent  pro- 
motion from  the  ranks,  the  interpenetration  of 
all  social  classes  in  all  grades  of  service  and  the 
promotion  of  a  sense  of  partnership  and  personal 
equality  between  those  who  command  and  those 
who  obey. 

2.     Universal    military    service    is    consistent 
with  democracy  only  in  so  far  as  it  is  popular. 


THE  VIGIL  OF  ARMS  31 

The  principal  objection  to  the  so-called  voluntary 
system  is  the  fact  that  when  compulsion  is  at 
last  used,  as  it  inevitably  is,  it  is  without  the 
support  either  of  the  habits  or  the  judgment  of 
the  people.  The  constitutionality  of  compulsion 
is  not  disputed.  Every  government  must  at  least 
hold  it  in  reserve  as  a  course  of  last  resort.  In 
any  war  with  a  nation  of  equal  or  superior  power, 
it  will  always  be  probable  that  the  voluntary 
system  will  prove  inadequate.  The  only  way  of 
avoiding  the  ugly  method  by  which  after  the 
more  willing  have  first  been  drained  away  the 
more  unwilling  residuum  is  then  threatened  and 
coerced,  is  to  adopt  the  policy  of  universal  ser- 
vice from  the  outset,  with  open  eyes,  because  of 
its  utility  and  its  justice.  It  is  then  possible  to 
create  habits  of  mind  and  of  body  that  are  really 
consistent  with  national  needs. 

The  success  of  the  policy  in  this  country,  as  in 
England  or  any  other  democracy,  must  depend 
on  the  attitude  of  the  working  classes.  There  is 
reason  to  hope  that  organized  labor  may  be  con- 
verted to  the  principle  of  national  service,  not 
only  from  motives  of  patriotism,  but  for  its 
educational  and  social  advantages,  and  for  its 
possible  indirect  bearing  on  economic  difficulties 
through  the  creation  of  a  better  understanding 


32    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

between  the  working  man  and  his  employer. 
It  is  also  probably  inevitable  that  universal 
service  should  lead  to  the  state's  assuming  on 
its  side  a  greater  responsibility  for  the  welfare  of 
the  working  classes.  In  short,  a  more  provident 
and  constructive  economic  policy  might  well 
grow  out  of  the  more  vigorous  nationality,  and 
the  more  vivid  sense  of  co-operation  and  mutual 
dependence,  that  universal  military  service  would 
stimulate. 

3.  Whatever  system  of  military  service  this 
country  may  adopt  must  be  suited  to  our  peculiar 
institutions  and  to  whatever  we  account  indis- 
pensable to  our  national  temperament.  It  has 
been  argued  that  any  military  system  is  contrary 
to  the  genius  of  America.  We  are  reminded  of 
those  who  came  here  to  escape  military  service, 
and  to  whom  America  would  not  be  America 
were  it  not  for  that  immunity.  Now  it  is  danger- 
ous to  identify  national  life  merely  with  immunity. 
Men  will  go  anywhere  to  escape  a  disagreeable 
duty.  That  they  should  come  to  America  from 
that  motive  argues  no  devotion  to  American  in- 
stitutions and  promises  no  willingness  to  assume 
the  responsibilities  of  citizenship.  It  is  a  mis- 
fortune that  America  is  reputed  to  be  a  land 
where  you  can  make  money  easily  and  do  as 


THE  VIGIL  OF  ARMS  33 

you  please.  Those  whom  this  repute  brings  to 
us  are  likely  to  feel  abused  when  they  find  that 
here  as  elsewhere  success  requires  work,  law  and 
taxes.  Compulsory  military  service  is  in  princi- 
ple contrary  to  no  ideal  save  that  of  reaping  with- 
out toil  and  sacrifice;  which  is  a  delusion  on 
which  no  national  life  can  be  founded. 

That  which  is  most  necessary  in  order  to  adapt 
military  training  to  American  life  is  that  men 
should,  as  in  the  Swiss  system,  be  withdrawn 
only  for  short  periods  from  civil  life.  The  func- 
tion of  war  must  always  be  regarded  as  sub- 
ordinate to  peaceful  pursuits,  in  the  life  of  the 
individual  as  well  as  in  that  of  the  nation.  The 
citizen  must  be  a  non-combatant  first  and  a 
soldier  second.  He  must  derive  his  tastes  and 
standards  from  his  family,  economic,  political 
or  recreative  associations,  so  as  to  prevent  the 
development  or  dominance  of  a  distinct  military 
type.  Occasional  military  training,  the  attain- 
ment of  skill  in  arms  and  manoeuvres,  need  no 
more  suppress  individuality  than  do  athletic 
sports.  The  military  uniform  need  no  more  efface 
personality  than  does  the  civilian  uniform.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  uniformity  in  unessentials,  such  as 
clothes,  step,  carriage  or  manual  dexterity,  is  a 
means  by  which  one  may  escape  attention  and 


34    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

therefore  be  permitted  to  pursue  one's  own  way  in 
essentials,  without  scrutiny  and  censorship.  Long 
hair  and  a  flowing  cravat  bespeak  not  that 
independence  which  Americans  respect,  but  that 
ostentation  and  tenderness  to  social  regard  which 
Americans  are  inclined  to  find  ridiculous.  If 
there  be  anything  in  military  form  which  is 
contrary  to  our  spirit  it  is  not  that  unobtrusive 
and  workmanlike  uniformity  which  is  important, 
but  those  decorations  and  other  concessions  to 
personal  vanity  which  can  more  easily  be  dis- 
pensed with. 

4.  It  is  essential  to  democracy  that  the  civil 
authority  should  be  superior  to  the  military 
authority,  and  that  there  should  be  one  law  and 
one  moral  code  for  soldiers  and  for  shoemakers. 
What  happened  in  Zabern  in  1913  ought  to  be 
intolerable  among  Americans.  The  civilian  con- 
trol of  our  military  forces  is  provided  for  in  our 
constitutional  forms  and  is  heartily  seconded  by 
public  opinion.  We  must  be  content  even  with 
a  loss  of  efficiency  rather  than  run  the  risk  of 
military  rule.  Policy  must  at  all  times  be  governed 
by  the  electorate,  and  criticism  of  authority  must 
always  be  tolerated  so  long  as  it  is  intended  as 
an  appeal  to  the  arbitration  of  public  opinion. 
Even  in  times  of  war  it  is  essential  to  a  democ- 


THE  VIGIL  OF  ARMS  35 

racy  that  the  great  body  of  citizens  should  exer- 
cise their  political  prerogatives.  It  is  not  incon- 
sistent with  soldierly  duty  that  one  should  fight 
so  long  as  a  state  of  war  exists,  and  yet  vote  for 
a  policy  that  would  terminate  the  war. 

If  there  be  any  fear  that  an  American  army 
once  organized  on  a  formidable  scale  might  be 
employed  for  aggressive  purposes  by  an  ambitious 
or  unscrupulous  administration,  it  is  always  pos- 
sible that  compulsory  enlistment  should  be  con- 
fined to  service  at  home,  or  on  the  borders.  By 
such  a  provision  a  man  would  incur  less  risk  of 
being  ordered  to  do  that  which  in  principle  he 
disapproves.  He  would  not  have  given  himself 
unconditionally  into  the  keeping  of  another;  but 
would  have  adopted  the  service  freely  from  the 
imperative  ground  of  national  safety.  It  is  im- 
possible to  deny,  however,  that  such  conditional 
service  might  at  times  defeat  the  purpose  of  de- 
fense. "The  only  question  of  real  importance," 
says  Mr.  F.  S.  Oliver,  "is  this:  At  what  place 
will  the  sacrifice  of  life  be  most  effective  for  the 
defence  of  the  country  ?  If  we  can  answer  that 
we  shall  know  also  where  it  will  be  lightest."  l 

It  has  been  urged  against  compulsory  service, 
by  Mr.  Norman  Angell,  for  example,  that  it  re- 

1  Ordeal  by  Bailie,  p.  403. 


36    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

quires  a  man  to  fight  in  a  war  he  deems  un- 
righteous, and  stops  him  from  criticising  it. 
That  any  given  individual  should  be  free  at  all 
times  to  do  as  his  conscience  dictates  is  some- 
what less  possible  in  time  of  war  than  in  time  of 
peace.  But  the  difference  is  only  one  of  degree. 
Authority  of  any  kind,  civil  or  military,  implies 
that  individuals  shall  do  under  pressure  what 
they  would  otherwise  not  do.  If  a  man  is  un- 
fortunate enough  to  be  a  conscientious  nihilist 
or  a  conscientious  polygamist,  he  will  find  him- 
self constrained  to  act  contrary  to  his  own  best 
judgment.  He  may  have  conscientious  scruples 
against  paying  his  taxes,  or  against  educating 
his  children,  or  against  submitting  to  vaccination. 
But  the  state  will  penalize  his  action  without 
respecting  his  conscience,  and  if  he  incites  to  riot 
on  behalf  of  his  own  peculiar  ideals  he  may  have 
to  submit  to  martyrdom.  No  way  has  been 
found  nor  ever  will  be  found  of  avoiding  this 
tragedy;  it  is  simply  the  price  which  is  paid 
for  the  benefits  of  social  order.  But  this  tragedy 
is  minimized  under  liberal  political  institutions 
by  permitting  individuals  at  stated  times  and  in 
stated  ways  to  share  in  the  making  of  the  laws 
under  which  they  live.  Under  such  institutions 
there  are  measures  which  a  man   may  legally 


THE  VIGIL  OF  ARMS  37 

take  toward  making  the  law  more  to  his  own 
liking.  But  meanwhile  he  must  obey  it  as  it 
is — under  protest,  if  he  wishes. 

In  principle  precisely  the  same  situation  exists 
in  war-time.  If  the  nation  is  in  fact  at  war,  then 
the  executive  and  military  authorities  must  prose- 
cute that  war  as  effectively  as  they  can  under  such 
laws  or  rules  as  may  exist  for  their  guidance.  A 
citizen  who  does  not  approve  of  the  war  must 
bide  his  time.  He  has  had  his  opportunity  to 
influence  national  policy,  and  he  will  have  it 
again.  Meanwhile,  he  must  bear  his  share  of 
the  burden  which  the  national  exigency  imposes. 
Whether  he  be  a  volunteer  or  a  conscript  will  not 
much  matter.  He  cannot  expect  to  reserve 
liberty  of  action  in  the  presence  of  the  enemy. 
If  his  conscience  is  offended,  so  much  the  worse 
for  his  conscience.  What  he  needs  is  a  new  con- 
science which  will  teach  him  to  keep  the  faith 
with  his  fellows  until  such  time  as  their  common 
understanding  and  their  controlling  policy  shall 
have  been  modified.  The  man  who  refuses  to 
obey  the  law  or  play  the  game  because  he  has 
been  outvoted  is  more  likely  to  be  afflicted  with 
peevishness  or  egotism  than  exalted  by  heroism. 

Under  a  system  of  national  service,  further- 
more, the  army  and  the  electorate  are  one  and 


38    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

the  same.  In  proportion  as  the  government  is 
popular,  the  army  will  itself  have  authorized  the 
policy  under  which  it  acts.  Unpopular  wars  are 
much  less  possible  under  such  a  system  than 
under  that  system  in  which  war  is  voted  by  one 
man  and  fought  by  another.  When  war  means 
to  each  voter  his  own  personal  obligation  to 
abandon  peaceful  pursuits,  submit  to  hardship 
and  risk  his  life,  he  will  interest  himself  in  for- 
eign policy,  and  will  not  lightly  lend  his  support 
to  an  aggressive  or  to  a  quixotic  enterprise. 

5.  Since  military  service  itself  emphasizes  the 
central  authority,  increases  solidarity  and  pro- 
motes loyalty  to  whatever  is  traditional  or  es- 
tablished, it  is  important  that  it  should  be  offset 
by  agencies  tending  to  independence,  individuality 
and  criticism.  The  greatest  of  these  agencies  is 
education.  Over  and  above  the  education  for 
livelihood  and  the  education  for  service,  it  is 
indispensable  that  there  should  be  the  education 
that  emancipates.  There  could  be  no  greater 
disaster  in  a  free  country  than  that  a  national 
educational  system  should  be  contrived  merely 
to  mobilize  the  intellectual  and  moral  resources 
of  the  community  for  the  purposes  of  the  state. 
Co-operation,  patriotism  and  all  the  civic  virtues 
must   indeed   be  imparted,  but   without  killing 


THE   VIGIL   OF  ARMS  39 

that  revolutionist  and  non-conformist  that  lives 
within  every  free  man's  breast.  Nationalistic 
education  must  never  displace  that  "universal" 
or  "personal"  education  which  Goethe  said  only 
noblemen  enjoyed  in  his  day,  but  which  in  a 
democracy  must  be  open  to  all  eager  minds. 

6.  If  war  is  not  to  be  the  result  of  caprice  or 
accident,  if  it  is  not  to  be  forced  upon  one  un- 
expectedly by  the  aggression  of  another  nation, 
it  must  be  subordinated  to  some  general  inter- 
national policy.  As  has  been  rightly  insisted, 
military  preparations  can  be  rational  only  when 
they  are  supplemented  by  some  statesmanlike 
and  far-reaching  plan  of  action.  The  present  war 
is  rapidly  destroying  our  traditional  domestic- 
ity. The  American  policy  has  in  the  past  been 
a  home  policy,  such  as  the  securing  of  indepen- 
dence, the  winning  of  the  West  and  the  preserva- 
tion of  the  Union.  The  Monroe  Doctrine,  if  it 
is  to  survive,  must  be  put  upon  a  new  interna- 
tional basis.  That  we  must  henceforth  live  among 
nations  was  a  heresy  yesterday,  but  to-day  it  is 
only  a  truism.  It  is  as  true  of  a  nation  desiring 
to  be  let  alone,  as  of  one  cherishing  dreams  of  con- 
quest. For  the  future  a  nation  can  as  little  af- 
ford to  be  without  an  alliance  as  a  man  can 
afford  to  be  without  a  country.     That  isolation 


4o    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

which  was  once  our  strength  is  now  our  weak- 
ness. 

7.  A  liberty-loving  country  like  our  own  should 
bring  its  rustic  virtues  into  the  international 
society.  It  is  possible  to  be  cosmopolitan  with- 
out being  cynical.  There  is  no  reason  why  we 
should  not  be  diplomatic  without  being  arrogant. 
There  is  a  courtesy  which  reconciles  pride  with 
generosity,  and  enables  self-respecting  individuals 
to  pay  honor  without  inquiring  too  particularly 
whether  it  is  due.  Similarly  there  is  a  mode  of 
national  conduct  which  permits  of  national  con- 
victions and  national  purpose  without  loss  of 
humor  and  tolerance.  Let  us,  therefore,  cultivate 
this  spirit  of  reciprocating  and  chivalrous  na- 
tionality. 

8.  The  political  principle  by  which  inter- 
national relations  may  be  rescued  from  lawless- 
ness, but  without  offending  against  the  just  pride 
of  individual  nations,  is  federalism.  Fortunately 
it  is  more  than  a  principle;  it  is  already  an  achieve- 
ment. The  integrity  of  the  British  Empire  under 
the  strain  of  war  is  the  most  hopeful  political  sign 
of  the  time.  It  is  the  most  triumphant  realization 
which  history  affords  of  that  "co-existence  of  sev- 
eral nations  under  the  same  State"  which  Lord 
Acton  a  half-century  ago  said  was  "one  of  the 


THE  VIGIL  OF  ARMS  41 

chief  instruments  of  civilization," !  and  indicative 
of  greater  advancement  than  the  mere  unity  of 
a  single  state.  The  loyalty  of  the  self-governing 
British  dependencies,  each  with  its  strong  local 
pride  and  ambition,  with  its  individual  differences 
of  social  organization,  temperament,  language 
and  race — their  instant  recognition  of  a  common 
crisis  and  a  common  cause,  affords  better  ground 
than  any  event  of  history  for  the  hope  that  all 
nations  may  some  day  be  federated.  World- 
wide federation  means  one  state  for  international 
purposes,  together  with  autonomy  for  national 
purposes.  It  means  the  rallying  of  all  nations 
to  the  defense  of  the  international  authority  and 
policy,  while  that  policy,  in  turn,  promotes 
the  diversity  of  national  cultures,  and  enables 
each  nation  to  prosper  in  its  own  way.  As  Mr. 
H.  N.  Brailsford  has  well  insisted,  no  international 
league  can  flourish  simply  "by  force  and  threats."2 
It  must  promise  advantages.  Nations  must  be 
persuaded  that  they  can  gain  their  own  ends  best 
in  the  settled  neighborhood  of  nations,  rather 
than  on  its  lawless  outskirts. 

The  problem  that  arises  from  the  contrast  be- 
tween more  advanced  and  more  backward  peoples 

1  History  of  Freedom  and  other  Essays,  p.  290. 

2  The  War  of  Steel  and  Gold,  p.  330. 


42    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

has  its  only  chance  of  solution  through  the  same 
principle.  Somewhere  there  must  be  a  frontier 
where  strangers  meet;  where  they  must  learn  to 
be  friends  if  not  enemies,  and  to  trade  if  not  to 
plunder.  The  world  cannot  exist  half  savage  and 
half  civilized.  There  is  a  genuine  difference  be- 
tween a  savage  and  a  foreigner,  between  a  Hotten- 
tot and  a  Chinaman.  The  one  is  to  be  educated 
or  protected  as  a  child;  the  other  to  be  regarded, 
if  not  with  understanding,  then  at  least  with  re- 
spect, as  another  way  of  being  a  man.  The 
obligation  of  civilization  to  savagery  is  that  of 
helping  it  to  its  feet,  without  directing  where  it 
shall  walk.  We  shall  have  done  our  work  well 
in  the  Philippines  if  we  have  taught  those  who 
live  there  how  to  be  different  from  ourselves, 
and  how  to  do  it  well.  If  we  were  to  force  our 
culture  upon  them,  and  convert  them,  for  ex- 
ample, to  the  literary  school  of  Bret  Harte,  Mary 
E.  Wilkins  and  James  Whitcomb  Riley,  we  should 
commit  an  impertinence,  and  impoverish  the 
world.  But  if  we  can  show  them  how  to  keep  the 
peace  among  themselves  and  with  others,  how 
to  find  their  own  resources  and  develop  their 
own  capacities,  and  then  leave  them  to  perfect 
themselves  in  their  own  way,  we  shall  have 
helped  a  brother  and  created  a  new  nation. 


THE  VIGIL  OF  ARMS  43 

9.  He  who  takes  up  arms  must  enter  the 
service  of  peace.  This  is  not  a  mere  paradox,  or 
the  echo  of  a  prevailing  sentiment,  but  honest 
downright  morals.  Universalism  must  take  pre- 
cedence of  nationalism  on  the  same  ground  that 
entitles  nationalism  to  take  precedence  of  individu- 
alism. Nationalism  is  a  higher  principle  of  action 
than  individualism,  by  all  the  other  individuals  of 
whom  it  takes  account.  A  nation  is  not  a  mystical 
entity,  other  than  you  and  me,  but  it  is  more 
than  you  or  me  inasmuch  as  it  is  both  of  us  and 
still  more  besides.  Similarly,  humanity  is  more 
than  nationality,  not  because  it  is  different,  but  be- 
cause it  is  bigger  and  more  permanent.  No  man, 
least  of  all  a  soldier,  can  ignore  any  of  the  effects 
of  his  conduct.  He  must  promise  himself  that  his 
conduct  shall  in  the  final  reckoning  be  helpful 
rather  than  hurtful.  He  must  have  imagination 
and  intelligence  enough  to  judge  his  action  by 
its  effects  across  the  boundaries  of  his  nation 
and  of  his  time.  If  he  be  thus  enlightened  he 
will  then  justify  himself  only  when  his  action, 
though  in  its  first  incidence  it  be  destructive,  is 
in  its  full  effect  a  saving  and  multiplication  of 
life. 


Ill 

THE  TOLERANT  NATION 

WORDS  sometimes  owe  their  usefulness  to 
their  ambiguity.  Thus,  one's  doubt  or 
utter  blankness  of  mind  when  compelled  to  pass 
judgment  on  a  work  of  art  is  decently  concealed 
by  such  words  as  "interesting"  or  "suggestive." 
The  commonest  word  in  the  technical  philosoph- 
ical vocabulary  of  any  age  is  usually  a  label  by 
which  some  part  of  the  primeval  chaos  is  neatly 
covered  so  that  attention  may  be  concentrated 
on  the  rest.  Just  now  it  is  the  word  "  experience." 
In  contemporary  political  thought  a  similar 
service  is  rendered  by  the  term  "nationality." 
It  is  a  commonplace  of  recent  history  that  the 
nineteenth  century  was  peculiarly  a  century  in 
which  men  fought  and  argued  in  terms  of  the 
principle  of  nationality.  The  present  war  is 
supposed  to  be  due  to  the  assertion  of  national- 
ity, and  justified  by  the  defense  of  it.  But  just 
what  nationality  is,  is  far  from  clear.  Indeed, 
most  discussions  of  the  matter  are  chiefly  con- 
cerned to  show  that  it  is  not  any  of  those  things 
which  it  is  usually  supposed  to  be. 

44 


THE  TOLERANT  NATION  45 

Thus,  a  nationality  is  not  the  same  thing  as  a 
state.  This  is  clear,  whatever  one's  view  as  to 
their  relative  priority.  If  we  are  to  believe  Lord 
Acton,  "a  state  may  in  course  of  time  produce 
a  nationality;  but  that  a  nationality  should 
constitute  a  state  is  contrary  to  the  nature  of 
modern  civilization."  *  According  to  this  view 
nationality  may  arise  from  "the  memory  of  a 
former  independence,"  and  its  principal  cause  be 
tyranny  and  oppression  from  abroad.  But  even 
so,  the  nationality  once  acquired  is  a  different 
thing  from  mere  political  independence.  It  is  a 
new  fellow-feeling  begotten  by  political  adversity. 
It  does  not  consist  in  the  mere  fact  of  a  common 
government  but  in  the  new  sense  of  common 
loyalty  and  common  proprietorship.  Similarly, 
when  it  is  argued  that  nationalities  should  be 
granted  political  autonomy,  it  is  assumed  that 
they  may  exist  in  its  absence.  Thus  the  Austro- 
Hungarian  Empire  is  commonly  described  as  a 
single  state  composed  of  many  nationalities.  Or 
when  it  is  proposed  that  a  world-state  should  be 
formed  out  of  existing  nationalities,  it  is  taken 
for  granted  that  these  nationalities  as  such  would 
in  some  sense  maintain  their  identity. 

The  fact  is  that  with  the  growth  of  liberal  polit- 

1  History  of  Freedom  and  other  Essays,  p.  292. 


46    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

ical  thought  it  has  become  less  and  less  possible  to 
regard  the  state  as  an  ultimate  by  which  nation- 
ality or  anything  else  can  in  the  last  analysis  be 
explained.  Once  the  state  is  divorced  in  principle 
from  the  de  facto  government,  or  from  hereditary 
legitimacy,  or  from  the  sanction  of  the  church,  it 
must  be  supposed  in  some  sense  to  express  the 
collective  needs  and  aspirations  of  a  social  group. 
And  in  so  far  as  the  citizens  of  any  state  so 
regard  their  government,  as  theirs  to  adopt,  or 
to  make  and  mould,  it  is  evident  that  the  state 
becomes,  if  it  was  not  originally,  an  instrument 
and  visible  sign  of  something  like  nationality. 
This,  of  course,  does  not  explain  what  national- 
ity is;  but  only  discourages  the  hope  of  identify- 
ing it  simply  with  the  state,  and  points  to  the 
necessity  of  looking  to  the  deeper  facts  of  social 
solidarity. 

There  are  certain  solidifying  agencies  that  are 
evidently  not  so  much  criteria  of  nationality  as 
conditions  necessary  or  favorable  to  its  existence. 
Thus  it  is  evident  that  a  nationality  is  not  an  eth- 
nological unit.  Neither  purity  of  race  nor  even  a 
common  racial  blend  defines  such  a  nationality 
as  our  own;  although  it  is  evident  that  racial 
homogeneity  conduces  to  national  life  and  is  in 
some  measure  invariably  present.    It  is  doubtless 


THE  TOLERANT  NATION  47 

the  most  powerful  single  cause  of  group  unity. 
Similarly,  men  who,  as  Nietzsche  says,  "speak  one 
language  and  read  the  same  newspapers"  are  in 
so  far  qualified  for  common  nationality,  since 
they  are  capable  of  intercourse  and  share  a  com- 
mon literature.  But  since  languages  are  so  easily 
learned  and  so  easily  forgotten,  and  since  the  same 
language  can  be  spoken  by  peoples  otherwise  remote 
and  diverse,  this  evidently  affords  neither  a  funda- 
mental nor  a  sufficient  principle  of  nationality. 

Propinquity  is  evidently  a  necessary  condition 
of  the  neighborly  relations  and  co-operative  ac- 
tion implied  by  nationality;  but  the  boundaries 
of  nationalities  only  occasionally  follow  physio- 
graphic frontiers.  A  common  climate  or  other 
aspect  of  nature  will  give  to  a  local  group  a 
sense  of  identity  not  unlike  that  which  the  in- 
dividual derives  from  the  "feel"  of  his  own 
body;  but  most  national  territories  embrace  too 
much  variety  to  find  in  this  a  general  bond.  A 
common  past  and  common  traditions  evidently 
solidify  a  group  just  as  his  peculiar  memories 
give  to  each  individual  a  sense  of  his  personal 
uniqueness.  But  there  are  new  nations  as  well 
as  old;  and  in  any  case  it  is  not  the  mere  fact  of 
historical  continuity  but  its  cultural  effect  which 
is  significant  for  nationality. 


48    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

In  short,  race,  language,  physiography  and 
history  do  not  constitute  nationality,  but  con- 
duce to  it  in  so  far  as  they  give  rise  to  the  sense 
of  a  common  life.  It  is  evident,  then,  that  na- 
tional individuality  like  personal  individuality  is 
a  psychological  fact  which  has  many  varying  and 
supplementary  causes.  A  man  will  possess  na- 
tionality in  so  far  as  he  identifies  himself  with 
a  group  by  act  of  will  and  a  less  conscious  but  not 
less  significant  community  of  sentiment  or  idea. 
Although  the  difference  is  not  a  sharp  one,  and 
although  the  two  factors  act  and  react  upon  one 
another,  it  will  be  useful  to  distinguish  between 
the  bond  of  utility  and  the  bond  of  culture.  I 
shall  therefore  consider  nationality  under  each 
of  these  aspects  and  endeavor  to  bring  to  light 
in  each  case  the  causes  by  which  nationality 
tends  to  tyranny  and  intolerance,  or  the  means 
by  which  this  evil  consequence  may  be  prevented. 

The  bond  of  utility  means  simply  that  every 
individual  finds  it  expedient  to  go  into  partner- 
ship with  his  fellows.  He  must  attach  himself 
to  some  organized  society  in  which  his  interests 
are  adjusted  to  those  of  other  men  according  to 
certain  rules  which  are  defined  and  enforced  by 
a  common  authority.  Nationality  in  this  sense 
is  the  same  as  polity,  but  only  provided  polity 


THE  TOLERANT  NATION  49 

is  regarded  as  a  voluntary  association  for  mutual 
benefit,  and  not  as  an  alien  coercive  force.  The 
state  is  an  expression  of  nationality  only  in  so 
far  as  it  is  adopted  and  acknowledged  as  their 
own  by  a  group  of  participating  beneficiaries. 
There  is,  of  course,  a  wide  difference  of  opinion 
as  to  the  scope  of  this  political  partnership,  rang- 
ing from  laissez-faire  to  state  socialism.  But 
there  are  two  benefits  which  are  the  least  that  is 
expected  of  the  state:  the  benefit  of  internal 
peace,  and  the  benefit  of  security  against  external 
aggression.  A  state  is  a  social  group  living  under 
one  system  of  law,  and  making  common  cause 
together  against  dangers  from  abroad.  A  state 
has  one  police,  and  one  military  force,  ruled  by 
one  ultimate  authority.  This  account  of  the 
state  ignores  such  ambiguous  situations  as  have 
been  created  in  the  past  by  the  temporal  claims 
of  the  church,  and  such  as  are  created  now  by 
federal  systems  and  by  alliances.  These  doubtful 
cases  prove  that  it  is  impossible  to  distinguish 
the  identity  of  the  state  in  any  absolute  and  un- 
qualified manner;  but  they  do  not  affect  the 
particular  considerations  to  which  I  wish  now  to 
turn. 

The  internal  or  domestic  policy  of  a  state  de- 
fines the  limits  within  which  individuals  may  do 


50    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

as  they  please  without  getting  in  one  another's 
way.  Its  object  is  to  secure  to  each  individual 
as  large  a  sphere  of  liberty  as  possible;  in  short, 
to  guarantee  private  privilege.  Variety,  original- 
ity, happiness  and  growth  are  the  signs  of  its 
success.  These  things  must,  however,  be  at- 
tained by  organization  and  discipline.  And 
therein  lies  the  difficulty  and  paradox  of  domestic 
policy.  Repression  and  orderly  routine  are  in- 
dispensable; but  if  carried  too  far  they  defeat 
their  purpose.  There  is  such  a  thing  as  a  sort 
of  national  asceticism  in  which  repression  is 
deemed  an  end  in  itself,  instead  of  an  instrument 
of  liberty.  Organization  is  an  art  and  requires 
experts;  but  these  readily  become  a  bureaucracy 
and  eventually  a  ruling  class  which  asserts  its 
own  interests  in  place  of  those  it  was  designed 
to  serve.  "Whenever  a  single  definite  object  is 
made  the  supreme  end  of  the  state,"  to  quote 
Lord  Acton  once  more,  "be  it  the  advantage  of 
a  class,  the  safety  or  the  power  of  the  country, 
the  greatest  happiness  of  the  greatest  number,  or 
the  support  of  any  speculative  idea,  the  state 
becomes  for  the  time  inevitably  absolute."  *  In 
other  words,  whatever  the  function  which  the 
state  exercises,  it  requires  submission.    But  this 

1  Op.  til.,  p.  288. 


THE  TOLERANT  NATION  51 

submission  may  become  a  habit  through  con- 
fusion of  mind  or  through  helplessness,  so  that 
the  instrument  becomes  a  burden  and  a  tyranny. 
Hence  the  just  suspicion  of  authority  which  is 
characteristic  of  the  peoples  of  western  Europe 
and  America.  Hence  "eternal  vigilance  is  the 
price  of  liberty."  Here  is  the  danger  which 
justifies  the  distrust  of  representatives  and  ex- 
perts among  the  more  advanced  democracies — 
the  rude  insistence  that  public  officials  shall  be 
servants,  and  that  if  experts  be  necessary,  then 
all  must  be  educated  to  some  competence  in 
public  affairs. 

But  this  same  characteristic  difficulty  is  ag- 
gravated by  the  interplay  of  domestic  and  for- 
eign policy.  A  common  danger  from  abroad  out- 
ranks in  urgency  any  question  of  domestic  rights, 
as  in  the  case  of  the  individual  the  question  of 
life  or  death  instantly  eclipses  questions  of  com- 
parative happiness.  Thus  the  threat  of  war 
invariably  leads  to  a  conservative  reaction.  It 
has  led,  in  France  before  the  war,  and  in  all  coun- 
tries since  its  outbreak,  to  the  postponement  or 
slighting  of  such  questions  as  the  relations  of 
church  and  state,  or  the  extension  of  the  suffrage, 
or  the  improvement  of  the  conditions  of  labor. 

It  is,  moreover,  unhappily  the  fact  that  the  pol- 


52    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

icy  which  best  serves  individual  interests  at  home, 
and  the  policy  which  makes  a  nation  most  power- 
ful abroad,  do  not  coincide.  A  liberal  domestic 
policy  implies  protest  and  insubordination;  it  en- 
courages claims  and  counter-claims  in  behalf  of 
private  interests,  and  leads  to  changes  of  the  ex- 
isting equilibrium.  Power  abroad,  on  the  other 
hand,  implies  concentration  of  purpose,  a  forget- 
fulness  of  grievances,  and  a  willingness  to  bear  in- 
justice in  the  presence  of  the  great  emergency. 
Thus  the  solution  of  the  great  problem  of  personal 
happiness  and  development  is  retarded  or  put 
aside,  and  society  returns  for  a  time  to  the  rudi- 
mentary question  of  bare  preservation. 

I  do  not  for  a  moment  mean  to  belittle  this 
question  of  preservation.  It  does  and  must 
take  precedence  of  other  questions.  Aggression 
from  abroad  creates  a  genuine  emergency.  In 
order  that  nations  shall  be  anything  at  all,  they 
must  first  exist.  Even  such  apprehension  as 
has  led  Englishmen  of  to-day  seriously  to  ad- 
vocate a  dictatorship  is  not  wholly  groundless. 
The  tragic  fact  is  that  no  people  can  give  itself 
up  whole-heartedly  to  the  improvement  of  the 
lot  of  individuals,  or  to  any  of  the  higher  spiritual 
purposes  of  civilization,  until  all  peoples  are  en- 
gaged  in   the   same   task.     A   single   aggressive 


THE  TOLERANT  NATION  53 

power  let  loose  in  the  world  can  compel  all  na- 
tions to  be  on  their  guard,  and  so  to  devote  to 
the  end  of  barely  living,  energies  that  would 
otherwise  be  devoted  to  the  task  of  living  better. 
Nations  like  individuals  require  a  guarantee  of 
security  before  they  can  afford  to  be  happy.  The 
problem  of  civilization  is  therefore  a  common 
and  a  mutual  task  in  which  all  nations  must 
move  abreast.  The  national  virtues  that  are 
required  in  an  age  of  international  lawlessness 
contradict  those  more  liberal  virtues  to  which 
civilization  aspires.  But  the  latter  imply  the 
advent  of  a  new  era  in  which  international  author- 
ity shall  have  delimited  a  sphere  within  which 
each  nation  may  live  out  its  life  in  safety  and 
freedom. 

So  much,  then,  for  that  illiberality  in  national 
life  which  is  due  to  fear,  that  invoking  of  the 
principle  of  force  which  is  necessary  in  order  to 
meet  force  on  equal  terms.  But  this  necessity 
is  due  to  aggression  which  must  somewhere  arise 
from  within.  Such  aggression  may  be  and  com- 
monly has  been  due  to  motives  of  utility — to  the 
desire  for  land,  natural  resources,  or  other  eco- 
nomic advantages.  Without  belittling  the  ac- 
tual effect  of  these  motives,  I  wish,  nevertheless, 
to  ignore  them  in  the  present  discussion  in  order 


54    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

to  emphasize  another  motive  which  is  more  novel 
and  more  distinctive  of  the  present  crisis.  I  re- 
fer to  the  motive  of  national  culture.  This  is  the 
present  warrant  of  aggression  when  aggression 
takes  high  ground.  Its  danger  lies  in  its  self- 
righteousness.  We  know  what  to  make  of  honest, 
straightforward  aggrandizement,  and  we  know 
what  to  call  it.  But  the  nation  which  goes  forth 
to  conquer  not  only  in  shining  armor,  but  with 
shining  faces  all  aglow  with  the  sense  of  a  holy 
mission,  is  not  only  a  menace  to  life  and  prop- 
erty, but  to  reason  and  conscience  as  well.  One 
stands  aghast  with  one  hand  on  one's  pocket  and 
the  other  on  one's  troubled  brow. 

Culture  as  a  bond  of  nationality,  is  a  very 
different  matter  from  the  culture  that  liberalizes 
and  emancipates.  It  is  a  culture,  a  peculiar 
system  or  code  of  beliefs,  sentiments  and  cus- 
toms, by  which  a  people  feel  themselves  to  be  in 
some  measure  distinguished  and  set  apart.  Maz- 
zini  said  that  those  who  aspire  to  nationality 
"  demand  to  associate  freely,  without  obstacles, 
without  foreign  domination,  in  order  to  elaborate 
and  express  their  idea."  1  A  national  culture  is 
an  idea  or  system  of  ideas,  as  to  how  to  live  and 
as  to  what  is  worth  living  for,  common  to  the 

1  Quoted  by  J.  Dover  Wilson,  in  The  War  and  Democracy,  p.  16. 


THE  TOLERANT  NATION  55 

members  of  a  group  and  peculiar  to  the  group 
as  a  whole.  Such  a  special  culture  arises  from  a 
thousand  causes,  many  of  them  obscure,  but  it 
does  arise  and  get  itself  recognized. 

This  is  not  that  quaint  affair  of  "sweetness 
and  light,"  or  knowledge  of  "the  best  that  has 
been  thought  and  said  in  the  world,"  of  which 
we  have  more  often  heard.  It  is  not  that  cos- 
mopolitan value  which  is  associated  with  art, 
science,  philosophy  and  history.  National  cul- 
ture is  in  a  certain  respect  the  precise  opposite  of 
liberal  culture.  Thus  science  is  a  part  of  liberal 
culture  in  so  far  as  it  deals  with  nature,  employs 
a  dispassionate  method  and  arrives  at  generally 
valid  laws;  but  science  is  a  part  of  German  cul- 
ture in  so  far  as  it  is  performed  by  German 
scientists  and  applied  to  German  economic  life. 
Art  is  a  part  of  liberal  culture  in  so  far  as  it 
implies  generally  valid  standards  of  taste  and 
makes  one  family  of  Phidias,  Dante,  Shakespeare 
and  Goethe;  but  it  is  a  part  of  German  culture 
only  in  so  far  as  it  creates  a  Denhnal  of  Bis- 
marck, or  in  that  Goethe  happened  to  be  born  in 
Frankfort-on-the-Main,  or  in  that  Shakespeare's 
dramas  are  appreciated  in  Berlin.  In  liberal  cul- 
ture philosophy  began  with  Plato  because  he  was 
"the  spectator  of  all  time  and  eternity,"  in  na- 


56    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

tional  culture  it  began  with  Kant  because  he  lived 
in  East  Prussia.  History  in  "so  far  as  it  is  an 
affair  of  culture,  enables  one  to  inherit  the  whole 
empire  of  the  past.  As  a  part  of  German  cul- 
ture it  enables  one  to  trace  one's  descent  from 
a  select  family  of  barbarians  who  dwelt  in  the 
Pomeranian  bog. 

It  is  evident  that  the  culture-motive  in  national- 
ity may  readily  become  a  source  of  illiberality. 
But  since  some  measure  of  common  sentiment  and 
opinion  is  both  inevitable  and  desirable,  it  is  im- 
portant to  discover  precisely  wherein  this  danger 
lies.  Its  source  will  be  not  in  the  fact  of  national 
culture,  but  in  the  attitude  which  accompanies  it. 
It  is  not  in  being  German,  for  example,  that  the 
danger  lies,  but  in  being  too  self-conscious  about 
it,  or  in  taking  it  too  seriously. 

There  is  a  good  deal  of  nonsense  abroad  in  the 
world,  aided  and  abetted  by  a  certain  type  of 
philosophy,  as  to  the  value  of  self-consciousness. 
It  is  very  easy  to  confuse  originality  and  dis- 
tinction with  the  use  of  the  looking-glass  or  the 
first  personal  pronoun.  As  a  matter  of  fact  the 
man  who  possesses  individual  distinction  is  far 
more  likely  to  be  absorbed  in  an  object  or  cause 
than  in  himself.  If  he  departs  from  usage  it  is 
because  he  is  really  careless  of  appearances,  not 


THE   TOLERANT  NATION  57 

because  he  is  studiously  careless.  In  the  latter 
case  one  is  aping  the  appearance  of  carelessness) 
and  so  conforming  to  a  type.  He  is  endeavoring 
to  be  what  is  expected  of  him,  not  what  he  is 
prompted  to  be  by  his  own  peculiar  genius. 

The  same  thing  is  true  of  national  distinction. 
In  so  far  as  it  is  indigenous  and  original,  it  is 
unconscious  and  not  self-conscious.  It  comes  of 
exercising  one's  judgment  honestly  and  indepen- 
dently. The  way  to  be  American,  for  example,  is 
not  to  play  a  character-part  representing  the  con- 
ventional "American  traits,"  but  to  seek  the  best, 
or  do  one's  duty  as  one  sees  it,  leaving  the  Amer- 
icanism to  take  care  of  itself.  If  one  is  born  in 
America,  if  one  lives  in  the  American  milieu,  sub- 
ject to  the  characteristic  influences  of  that  en- 
vironment and  tradition,  the  Americanism  will 
take  care  of  itself.  National  movements  in  art, 
science  or  philosophy  are  not  the  result  of  men's 
trying  to  be  French  or  English;  but  they  result 
when  Frenchmen  or  Englishmen  try  to  make 
something  that  is  beautiful  or  say  something 
that  is  true.  No  important  cultural  movement 
in  the  world's  history  has  resulted  from  the  de- 
liberate cultivation  of  one's  own  peculiarities. 
On  the  contrary  they  have  usually  been  inspired, 
as  in  the  case  of  the  Italian  Renaissance,  by  a 


58    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

somewhat  extravagant  regard  for  the  peculiari- 
ties of  others.  That  which  distinguishes  the  mo- 
tive of  great  art  and  science  is  its  universality, 
its  objectivity,  its  preference  of  standards  to 
personalities  or  local  pride.  The  personal  or 
national  quality,  like  the  quality  which  dis- 
tinguishes an  epoch  or  a  race,  is  determined  by 
the  angle  and  point  of  origin  from  which  the 
universal  is  approached,  and  it  depends  for  its 
fullest  expression,  not  on  self-consciousness,  but 
on  absorption  and  sincerity. 

But  self-consciousness  is  worse  than  a  weak- 
ness by  which  the  purpose  of  national  culture 
defeats  itself.  Not  only  does  it  divert  the  at- 
tention from  the  greatest  and  best  things,  and 
check  their  liberalizing  and  quickening  power, 
but  it  begets  a  state  of  self-righteous  irrespon- 
sibility that  is  a  positive  danger  to  the  rest 
of  mankind.  National  self-consciousness,  like  in- 
dividual self-consciousness,  emphasizes  the  form 
rather  than  the  substance  of  life.  It  breeds 
irresponsibility  because  it  encourages  men  to 
believe  that  the  agent's  end  of  the  act  is  more 
important  than  the  patient's.  If  the  agent  feels 
or  conducts  himself  in  a  certain  prescribed  manner, 
then  it  matters  little  what  the  consequences  of 
the  act  may  happen  to  be.    The  good  marksman 


THE  TOLERANT  NATION  59 

is  the  one  whose  form  is  good,  not  the  one 
who  hits  the  target.  Moralities  of  this  sort  are 
common  enough.  There  is  the  conscience  school 
which  teaches  that  the  criterion  of  right  action 
is  the  inward  oracle  rather  than  the  outward 
effect.  This  school  has  been  too  conventional, 
too  wedded  to  the  conservative  moral  tradition 
to  be  as  dangerous  as  some  others.  Even  so, 
its  blind  conservatism  and  its  bigotry  are  well- 
known.  The  full  danger  of  this  way  of  thinking 
is  realized  when  it  is  united  with  the  radical 
temper.  Any  act  has  virtue,  says  Nietzsche, 
which  issues  from  the  sense  of  power.  If  you  can 
feel  masterful  while  you  do  it,  it  doesn't  so  much 
matter  what  you  do;  you  may  even  perform 
deeds  of  benevolence. 

But  the  great  morality  which  has  emanated 
from  Germany  is  that  of  "self-realization."  The 
important  thing  according  to  this  view  is  that 
your  deeper  self  should  act,  and  not  some  mo- 
mentary impulse.  When  you  deliberately  choose 
an  act,  or  put  your  whole  self  into  it — when  it  is 
really  you  that  do  it,  with  a  full  sense  of  the 
gravity  of  this  self-committal,  then  the  act  is  a 
right  act,  whatever  comes  of  it.  Of  course,  it  will 
be  a  part  of  your  deliberation  to  take  the  conse- 
quences into  account.    But  that  will  be  inciden- 


60    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

tal  to  the  coaxing  out  of  the  deeper  self,  and  will 
never  prove  the  act  right  or  wrong.  Now,  it  is 
clear  that  this  doctrine  is  readily  applied  to  the 
case  of  nationality.  The  precept,  "Be  yourself," 
may,  when  one  identifies  oneself  with  the  nation, 
be  amended  to  read  "Be  German,"  or  "act  so  as 
to  feel  German  when  you  do  it."  The  act  will 
then  be  right,  because  it  was  rightly  conceived  at 
the  source. 

There  is  a  danger  for  the  agent  himself  in  such  a 
sanction  of  conduct.  It  gives  rise  to  the  mistaken 
belief  that  one  can  sow  without  reaping,  and  so 
encourages  a  fatuous  disregard  of  the  laws  of  life. 
It  is  like  the  medicine  by  which  some  persons 
hope  to  offset  the  effects  of  gluttony,  or  the  piety 
which  is  warranted  to  save  one's  soul  without 
requiring  that  one  shall  mend  one's  ways.  But 
the  greatest  danger  of  formalism  is  that  which 
threatens  not  the  agent  but  the  unhappy  mortal 
on  whom  he  chooses  to  realize  himself.  A  man 
with  a  conscience,  or  a  sense  of  mastery,  or  a 
self,  or  some  other  inner  authority  by  which  he 
justifies  himself,  is  a  menace  to  any  neighborhood. 
He  is  like  a  man  playing  with  dangerous  weapons, 
who  doesn't  look  where  he  is  shooting.  For 
every  act  is  a  dangerous  weapon.  Discharged  in 
the  midst  of  a  thickly  settled  community  it  is 


THE  TOLERANT  NATION  61 

sure  to  hit  and  injure  somebody,  unless  its  direc- 
tion and  effects  are  carefully  regulated.  It 
wouldn't  do  in  any  community  to  allow  men  to 
discharge  loaded  firearms  simply  in  order  to 
express  themselves.  Or  if  it  were  permitted,  the 
most  dangerous  man  would  be  he  who  felt  he 
had  the  most  to  express. 

So  society  finds  it  necessary  to  suppress  any 
man  who  is  too  exclusively  concerned  with  being 
himself,  and  has  to  be  especially  firm  with  those 
who  take  themselves  seriously.  When  spiritual 
exaltation  reaches  a  certain  height  it  becomes 
necessary  to  use  handcuffs  and  a  strait-jacket. 
If  a  Nietzschean  superman  should  break  into  any 
settled  community  he  would  of  course  have  to 
be  jailed  at  once.  National  self-consciousness 
has  to  be  met  in  the  same  way  by  the  neigh- 
borhood of  nations.  The  justification  of  action 
by  its  expressiveness  of  national  peculiarities,  a 
policy  dictated  simply  by  the  principle  of  being 
one's  national  self,  whether  German  or  anything 
else,  is  socially  intolerable.  It  has  to  be  reg- 
ulated, or  even  suppressed,  in  the  interest  of 
public  safety. 

A  national  culture  may,  then,  be  intolerant  by 
virtue  simply  of  a  heightened  self-consciousness — 
an  excessive  self-preoccupation.     This  motive  is 


62    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

not  primarily  aggressive.  The  effect  upon  others 
is  not  so  much  calculated  as  disregarded.  But  it 
is  easy  to  pass  over  into  a  sense  of  self-importance 
or  into  the  conviction  of  a  holy  mission.  Self- 
importance  may  simply  argue  youth.  There  is 
something  of  this  doubtless  in  present  German 
nationalism.  It  is  a  new  nationalism,  and  is  so 
important  to  those  who  have  recently  achieved 
it  after  a  long  struggle,  that  it  is  easily  assumed 
to  have  cosmic  importance.  Such  youthful  self- 
importance  is  naturally  associated  with  self- 
consciousness;  as  in  the  case  of  the  young  man 
with  his  first  pair  of  long  trousers,  for  whom  all 
windows  are  mirrors.  But  this  German  self- 
importance  is  a  deeper  and  more  formidable 
thing,  which  can  be  traced  back  even  to  the  age 
before  the  Napoleonic  wars.  From  Kant's  day 
to  the  present,  Germans  have  been  exhorted  to 
believe  themselves  peculiarly  indispensable  to 
civilization.  This  was  at  first  doubtless  a  counsel 
of  despair.  When  Fichte  said  to  the  German 
nation,  "If  you  sink,  humanity  sinks  with  you," 
he  sought  to  restore  the  self-respect  and  determina- 
tion of  a  people  prostrate  before  the  conqueror. 
But  in  the  long  run  the  German  nation  has  be- 
lieved what  it  was  told,  and  has  no  intention  of 
allowing  humanity   to  sink.     On   the  contrary, 


THE  TOLERANT  NATION  6$ 

Germany  proposes  to  make  the  elevating  of 
humanity  its  particular  business  and  whether 
humanity  likes  it  or  not.  There  is  a  dreadful 
seriousness  about  it,  a  resoluteness  of  purpose 
which  may  well  cause  the  unregenerate  to  tremble. 
To  understand  the  precise  nature  of  this  cul- 
tural mission  it  is  helpful  to  consult  the  familiar 
analogy  of  religion.  It  was  only  after  painful 
struggles  that  the  mind  of  western  Europe  was 
emancipated  from  the  conviction  that  it  is  of 
the  essence  of  religion  to  be  intolerant.  This  was 
because  the  mind  of  western  Europe  had  become 
thoroughly  habituated  to  the  Jewish  and  Chris- 
tian idea  that  the  God  of  a  particular  historical 
tradition  was  Almighty  God.  According  to  the 
pagan  idea  the  god  of  any  special  cult  must 
necessarily  be  a  particular  god — that  is,  only  one 
of  many  gods.  The  only  common  God  is  the 
divine  principle  at  large,  which  cannot  be  monopo- 
lized, but  only  worshipped  by  each  people  accord- 
ing to  their  lights  and  under  such  forms  and  mani- 
festations as  their  special  interests  and  locality 
shall  dictate.  A  religious  cult  of  this  sort  protects 
its  own  gods  from  sacrilege,  while  also  admitting 
the  sacredness  of  other  gods.  But  Judaism  and 
Christianity  have  said:  "Our  God,  the  God  of  our 
fathers,  the  God  we  worship  and  proclaim,  is 


64    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

the  God."  It  is  sacrilege  to  the  Christian  God  to 
admit  the  sacredness  of  any  other  god,  and  the 
benefits  of  religion  are  in  this  view  denied  to  all 
save  those  who  associate  themselves  with  the 
chosen  cult.  It  therefore  becomes  the  mission 
of  this  cult  to  save  men  in  the  name  of  "true 
religion"  from  the  religions  they  freely  choose. 
Hence  the  long  tragedy  of  intolerance  and  persecu- 
tion, with  its  diabolical  paradoxes — the  use  of 
force  to  impose  belief,  the  violent  assault  upon 
piety  from  the  motive  of  piety,  the  grim  resolve 
of  one  man  to  do  good  to  his  neighbor  even  though 
his  neighbor  should  die  of  it,  and  die  cursing  his 
self-appointed  benefactor. 

Now  if  for  religion  we  substitute  civilization, 
and  if  for  a  special  cult  like  Christianity  we  sub- 
stitute a  national  culture,  we  discover  the  parallel 
which  I  wish  to  emphasize.  Civilization  like  re- 
ligion has  its  special  dispensations,  and  there  are 
two  views  that  one  may  take  of  that  dispensa- 
tion under  which  one  lives.  One  may  do  homage 
to  it,  and  at  the  same  time  respect  the  diverse 
prejudices  of  others;  or  one  may  believe  that 
one's  own  dispensation  is  the  exclusive  channel 
through  which  the  blessings  of  civilization  are  to 
be  distributed  to  all  mankind.  In  this  case  alien 
prejudices  become  a  sin  by  which  men  destroy 


THE  TOLERANT  NATION  65 

their  chance  of  progress,  and  from  which  they 
must  be  saved  for  their  own  good.  Thus  Ger- 
many presents  the  remarkable  spectacle  of  a 
modern  nation  which  regards  itself  as  the  chosen 
people  of  civilization;  chosen  to  save  the  world, 
not  in  the  world's  way,  but  in  its  own,  the  Ger- 
man way.  This  is  neither  localism  nor  univer- 
salism,  but  both;  the  clothing  of  this  particular 
thing  that  flourishes  here  and  now,  with  the  awful 
authority  and  majesty  of  the  absolute.  It  has 
precisely  the  same  effect  upon  the  uninitiated  as 
though  a  familiar  companion  were  suddenly  to 
say:  "Oh,  by  the  way,  you  know  /  am  God." 
Such  a  remark  at  once  renders  social  relations  im- 
possible. If  one  believes,  then  one  may  bow  down 
and  worship.  Otherwise,  one  must  either  fly  for 
one's  life  or  employ  forcible  restraint.    - 

A  cultural  mission,  like  an  intolerant  religion, 
justifies  itself  by  a  philosophy  of  history.  In- 
deed, most  philosophies  of  history  consist  in 
giving  absolute  metaphysical  significance  to  the 
historical  moment  of  the  author,  or  in  picturing 
history  so  that  it  converges  upon  the  author. 
In  this  the  German  philosophies  of  history  have 
imitated  the  Christian  models  of  Saint  Augustine 
and  Saint  Thomas.  Thus  for  Hegel  art  culminates 
in   Romanticism,   religion   in   Lutheranism,   and 


66    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

politics  in  the  Prussian  monarchy.  The  modern 
world  is  "the  German  world,"  simply.  But  this 
is  only  a  retrospective  view  of  the  matter,  and  is 
comparatively  harmless.  The  more  sinister  mo- 
tive finds  expression  in  Kant's  view  of  patriotism 
as  the  will  that  the  end  of  humanity  "shall  be 
first  realized  in  the  particular  nation  to  which 
we  ourselves  belong,  and  that  this  achievement 
thence  spread  over  the  entire  race."  *  The  ex- 
traordinary thing  is  this  proprietary  interest  in 
civilization.  It  is  as  though  one  claimed  a  sort 
of  concession  in  perpetuity  to  bottle  the  essence 
of  civilization  and  sell  it  under  a  trade  name. 

Bernhardi  would  not  be  significant  if  he  were 
original.  In  claiming  "all  the  intellectual  and 
moral  progress  of  mankind"  to  rest  on  the  achieve- 
ments of  Luther  and  Kant,  he  is  simply  quoting 
tradition.  The  same  is  true  of  the  striking  pas- 
sage that  follows,  and  which  Professor  Dewey 
cites  with  effect  in  his  admirable  book,  Ger- 
man Philosophy  and  Politics.'1  The  tone  of  this 
passage  is  in  harmony  with  that  of  the  founders 
of  spiritual  Germany.  "To  no  nation  except  the 
German,"  says  Bernhardi,  "has  it  been  given  to 


1  Quoted  by  J.  Dewey,  in  his  German  Philosophy  and  Politics, 
p.  99. 

2  P.  35- 


THE  TOLERANT  NATION  67 

enjoy  in  its  inner  self  'that  which  is  given  to 
mankind  as  a  whole.'  ...  It  is  this  quality 
which  especially  fits  us  for  leadership  in  the  in- 
tellectual domain  and  imposes  upon  us  the  ob- 
ligation to  maintain  that  position."  As  we  out- 
siders, the  prospective  beneficiaries,  listen  to 
these  words  we  know  how  the  oysters  in  Alice  in 
Wonderland  felt  toward  the  weeping  carpenter; 
or  how  the  keeper  feels  toward  the  embraces 
of  a  friendly  elephant;  or  we  remember  how  we 
ourselves  once  felt  toward  the  stern  parent 
who  told  us  that  it  hurt  him  worse  than  it 
hurt  us. 

The  spectacle  of  coercive  benevolence  visited 
by  one  adult  of  the  species  upon  another,  may 
afford  laughter  to  the  gods;  but  that  is  because 
they  happily  dwell  in  a  safe  place  where  no  one 
seeks  to  do  them  good.  For  the  hapless  object 
of  benevolent  intent  it  is  a  grim  business.  And 
since  it  is  natural  to  benevolence  to  expand  and  to 
be  untiring,  it  is  inevitable  that  a  general  uneasi- 
ness should  pervade  the  whole  family  of  nations  so 
long  as  any  one  of  them  is  thus  inspired  and  ded- 
icated. It  is  not  only  a  dangerous  thing,  it  is  an 
inherently  tragic  thing  like  a  great  mind  gone 
wrong.  Cultural  intolerance,  the  sense  of  a 
national  mission,  is  a  morbid  excess  of  virtue. 


68    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

It  is  divided  from  the  best  and  greatest  things  by 
a  few  degrees  of  more  and  less.  It  implies  resolute 
purpose,  self-respect,  subordination  to  a  cause. 
Its  contempt  for  others,  its  consciousness,  is  like 
the  hardness  of  a  man  who  cannot  be  indulgent 
to  others  because  he  expects  so  much  himself. 

La  Mettrie  said  that  an  invisible  fibre  would 
suffice  to  make  an  idiot  of  an  Erasmus.  It  may 
take  a  cerebral  lesion  to  cause  mental  paranoia, 
but  moral  paranoia  may  be  caused  by  something 
even  less  evident  and  ponderable.  A  little  dif- 
ference of  attitude,  scarcely  to  be  remarked  at 
all  save  in  its  effects,  makes  the  difference  be- 
tween seriousness  and  censoriousness,  between 
idealism  and  fanaticism,  between  loyalty  and 
bigotry,  between  zeal  and  aggression.  The  cru- 
cial attitude  which  thus  preserves  moral  sanity 
is  a  recognition  of  one's  own  fallibility,  a  sense 
of  humor  regarding  oneself.  It  is  humor  that 
sweetens  nationality,  as  it  sweetens  individual- 
ity and  keeps  it  from  spoiling.  There  are  not 
many  things  that  a  man  may  not  say  if  he  will 
occasionally  betray  by  a  smile,  or  by  the  look 
in  his  eye,  that  he  knows  how  it  sounds  from 
your  point  of  view.  It  is  scarcely  possible  for 
national  pride  and  self-love  to  be  too  great,  pro- 
vided it  be  accompanied  by  the  saving  grace  of 


THE  TOLERANT  NATION  69 

self-criticism,  and  by  a  general  sense  of  a  some- 
thing so  much  bigger  than  oneself  as  to  make 
comparisons  ridiculous.  Nations,  like  individuals, 
need  perpetually  to  recover  their  sense  of  propor- 
tion by  reminding  themselves  of  their  liability  to 
error,  or  of  their  need  of  all  possible  light  from 
all  possible  sources  on  those  questions  which  are 
so  great  as  to  be  almost  hopeless. 

Tolerance  springs  from  a  recognition  of  one's 
own  limitations,  from  the  feeling  that  there  is 
too  much  to  the  truth,  or  to  civilization,  for  any 
one  group  of  men  to  fathom  or  compass.  Such 
is  the  spirit  of  Mill's  plea  for  individualism: 
"That  mankind  are  not  infallible;  that  their 
truths,  for  the  most  part,  are  only  half-truths; 
that  unity  of  opinion,  unless  resulting  from  the 
fullest  and  freest  comparison  of  opposite  opinions, 
is  not  desirable,  and  diversity  not  an  evil,  but  a 
good,  until  mankind  are  much  more  capable  than 
at  present  of  recognizing  all  sides  of  the  truth, 
are  principles  applicable  to  men's  modes  of  ac- 
tion, not  less  than  to  their  opinions.  As  it  is 
useful  that  while  mankind  are  imperfect  there 
should  be  different  opinions,  so  is  it  that  there 
should  be  different  experiments  of  living;  that 
free  scope  should  be  given  to  varieties  of  char- 
acter, short  of  injury  to  others;   and  that  the 


70    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

worth  of  different  modes  of  life  should  be  proved 
practically,  when  any  one  thinks  fit  to  try  them."1 

The  just  relation  between  independent  nations 
is  precisely  that  which  underlies  the  higher  forms 
of  intercourse  between  independent  individuals. 
Friendship,  rivalry,  commerce,  war,  discussion, 
partnership,  may  all  be  ennobled  by  this  relation. 
It  consists  in  mutual  respect.  It  is  much  more 
than  an  affair  of  manners.  It  means  that  each 
acknowledges  in  the  other  that  power  of  judgment 
and  self-determination,  in  which  his  own  man- 
hood consists.  As  each  judges  for  himself  and 
devotes  himself  with  resolution  to  what  he  deems 
good,  so  he  recognizes  the  same  finality  and  self- 
sufficiency  in  others.  He  respects  in  others  what 
he  respects  in  himself,  and  since  he  receives  re- 
spect from  the  object  to  which  he  gives  it,  he  can 
be  respectful  without  ceasing  to  be  self-respecting. 

In  essentials  the  same  relation  must  underlie 
the  intercourse  of  nations.  Each  believes  in  it- 
self, and  judges  by  its  own  standards.  But  this 
very  loyalty  and  resoluteness  will  create  an 
admiration  for  the  same  quality  in  other  nations. 
It  is  as  though  one  nation  were  to  say  to  an- 
other :  "Your  ways  are  outlandish,  and  your  judg- 
ments wrong,  but  I  doubt  not  mine  seem  equally 

1  On  Liberty,   chap.  III. 


THE  TOLERANT  NATION  71 

so  to  you.  Which  of  us  has  the  better  of  the 
argument,  God  only  knows.  We  believe  that  we 
have,  but  we  enjoy  no  peculiar  immunity  from 
error.  Perhaps  we  can  persuade  you  that  you 
are  wrong.  Perhaps  it  will  turn  out  that  we  are 
both  half  right  and  half  wrong.  Meanwhile  there 
is  room  for  us  both  if  we  are  willing  to  make  it." 

Such  a  national  spirit  conduces,  like  Mill's 
individualism,  to  a  rich  variety  of  type,  and  to 
the  mutual  aid  of  many  minds,  each  trying  its 
own  experiments  and  attacking  in  its  own  way 
the  common  problems  of  civilization.  It  is  an 
indispensable  condition  of  any  peace  save  the 
peace  in  which  arrogance  dominates  slavishness. 
If  nations,  like  individuals,  are  to  be  allowed  any 
pride  or  belief  in  themselves,  or  the  courage  of 
their  convictions,  then  if  there  is  not  to  be  perpet- 
ual war,  there  must  be  a  general  spirit  of  tolerance 
— a  willingness  to  respect  what  one  cannot  agree 
with  or  even  understand. 

But  tolerance  is  not  to  be  prized  merely  as  a 
means  of  diversity  or  of  safety;  for  it  directly 
elevates  the  tone  of  national  life.  A  man  is  seen 
at  his  best  when  associating  with  those  he  regards 
as  his  equals.  Sycophancy  and  superiority,  ser- 
vility and  mastery,  conduce  equally  to  the  warp- 
ing of  character.    The  man  who  can  enjoy  inter- 


72    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

course  only  with  his  superiors  or  inferiors,  who 
must  play  the  toady  or  the  bully,  and  does  not 
know  how  to  look  any  man  horizontally  in  the 
eye,  is  morally  defective.  So  the  finest  quality 
of  national  life  is  reserved  for  those  nations  which 
can  be  faithful  to  themselves  without  loss  of 
sanity.  Such  nations  will  not  be  restrained  by 
force  from  oppressing  their  neighbors.  They  will 
rejoice  in  the  existence  of  their  neighbors,  and 
will  doubly  rejoice  in  finding  their  neighbors 
worthy  of  their  mettle.  They  will  feel  in  the  in- 
tercourse of  proud  and  differing  nations  the  same 
zest  that  is  felt  by  a  man  among  men. 

When  peaceful  rivalry  or  friendly  co-operation 
takes  the  place  of  war,  this  attitude  will  be  no  less 
needed.  For  that  same  mutual  respect  which  may 
ennoble  even  war,  is  all  that  will  save  peace  from 
a  spirit  of  easy  acquiescence,  or  from  a  mean  con- 
tentiousness. Peace  itself  has  to  be  redeemed, 
and  that  which  alone  will  save  it  will  be  an  eager 
championship  of  differing  national  ideals,  a  gen- 
erous rivalry  in  well-doing,  the  athlete's  love  of  a 
strong  opponent,  and  the  positive  relish  for  di- 
verse equality. 


IV 

IMPRESSIONS  OF  A  PLATTSBURG 
RECRUIT 

IT  is  a  mistake  to  suppose  that  a  soldier's  im- 
pedimenta are  merely  accessory.  From  the 
time  when  you  first  gratefully  borrow  them  from 
the  ordnance  and  quartermaster's  tents  to  the 
time  when  you  still  more  thankfully  deliver  them 
up,  you  revolve  about  them.  In  place  of  the 
ordinary  organic  sensations,  they  supply  while 
you  possess  them  the  nucleus  of  the  consciousness 
of  self.  Though  much  is  made  of  the  ceremony, 
there  is  really  no  credit  in  returning  these  objects 
to  the  United  States  Government.  The  real 
merit  is  in  borrowing  them  at  all.  This  is  per- 
haps the  bravest  act  a  soldier  is  called  upon  to 
perform.  There  are,  let  it  be  understood,  some 
twenty-five  separate  articles  in  this  borrowed 
equipment,  including  half  a  shelter-tent,  one 
rifle,  one  canteen,  one  poncho,  five  pegs,  etc., 
and  to  these  one  is  ordered  to  add  articles  of 
toilet  and  personal  apparel,   bringing  the  total 

73 


74    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

number  to  over  thirty.  These,  when  once  you 
have  put  them  together,  you  acquire  as  a  part  of 
yourself,  like  a  permanent  hump.  They  might  be 
folded,  hooked,  and  strapped  together  in  a  thou- 
sand ways;  they  must  be  folded,  hooked,  and 
strapped  together  in  one  way,  and  in  only  one 
way.  And  then  they  must  be  taken  apart  again, 
and  combined  anew  for  each  day's  journey; 
which  is  one  of  the  most  successful  of  the  several 
standard  devices  for  protecting  the  soldier  from 
the  corrupting  influence  of  leisure. 

When  you  advance  upon  an  imaginary  enemy, 
your  corporal,  whom  you  have  learned  to  watch 
as  a  dog  his  master,  shouts  " Follow  me!"  You 
are  wearing  your  hump,  with  its  various  outlying 
parts,  such  as  the  rifle  in  your  hand  and  the  can- 
teen on  your  hip.  By  bending  your  body  until 
your  back  is  parallel  with  the  ground,  you  are 
able  to  simulate  running.  The  gait  as  well  as 
the  contour  resembles  the  camel's;  but  alas !  you 
enjoy  no  such  natural  adaptation  for  pack-bear- 
ing, nor  for  the  rude  contacts  with  earth  that 
await  you.  For  after  loping  forward  some  twenty- 
five  yards,  you  are  ordered  to  "lie  down." 

This  is  not  to  be  construed  as  an  invitation  to 
enjoy  a  well-earned  rest.  On  the  contrary,  your 
torture  is  about  to  begin.     In  civilian  life  it  is 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  A  RECRUIT  75 

customary  when  lying  down  to  select  some  spot 
or  object  which  yields  slightly  to  the  pressure  of 
the  body,  or  corresponds  somewhat  to  its  out- 
lines. But  in  skirmish  formation  you  lie  down  in 
your  place;  if  you  are  a  rear-rank  man,  then 
half  a  pace  to  the  right  of  your  file-leader.  The 
chances  are  one  hundred  to  one  that  the  spot  fits 
you  very  badly.  Nevertheless,  down  you  go. 
You  then  hoist  up  on  your  left  elbow,  and  address 
your  rifle  in  the  direction  of  the  enemy.  Your 
whole  consciousness  is  now  concentrated  in  the 
elbow.  This  member,  which  was  never  intended 
as  an  extremity,  rests  in  all  likelihood  upon  a 
rough-edged  piece  of  granite  separated  from  your 
bone  by  one  thickness  of  flannel  shirt.  The  rifle 
presses  mercilessly  upon  it.  Your  pack,  thrown 
forward  in  your  fall,  rests  upon  the  back  of  your 
neck,  adds  itself  to  the  weight  upon  your  elbow, 
and  renders  it  almost  impossible — judged  by 
civilian  standards,  altogether  impossible — to  look 
along  the  sights  of  your  rifle.  The  pain  in  the 
elbow  is  soon  followed  by  a  sharp  cramp  in  the 
wrist.  When  these  parts  have  become  sufficiently 
numb  for  you  to  attend  to  minor  discomforts, 
you  begin  to  realize  that  you  are  lying  on  your 
bolo  knife,  and  that  your  canteen  is  sticking  into 
your  right  hip. 


76    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

At  this  moment  the  platoon  leader  orders  you 
to  "fire  faster,"  and  with  a  desperate  contortion 
you  reach  around  to  the  small  of  your  back  and 
grope  for  a  slip  of  cartridges  with  which  to  reload 
your  rifle.  Then  "Cease  firing!"  "Prepare  to 
rush!"  and  again  "Follow  me!" — this  time  not 
only  to  a  prone  position,  but  from  a  prone  posi- 
tion. You  are  carefully  enjoined  that  you  must 
get  up  running  and  lie  down  running,  lest  you 
shall  at  any  time  present  a  fixed  target  to  the 
enemy.  You  dig  a  hold  with  your  foot,  summon 
your  last  reserves  of  strength,  totter  forward 
with  all  your  goods  hanging,  dangling,  dragging 
about  you,  and  soon  resume  business  with  that 
elbow  exactly  where  you  left  off.  This  is  called 
"advancing  by  rushes,"  and  it  is  customary  to 
do  it  for  distances  of  a  thousand  yards  or  more 
in  instalments  of  fifty  yards  or  less.  It  is  capped 
by  a  bayonet  charge  in  which  after  drawing  the 
reluctant  bayonet  with  the  right  hand  from  just 
behind  the  left  ear,  and  fumbling  hastily  about 
for  the  proper  grooves  and  sockets,  you  expend 
your  last  ounce  of  strength  in  a  desperate  sprint 
up-hill. 

Now  in  this  description  I  have  made  no  refer- 
ence to  the  enemy.  In  fact  there  is  no  reference 
to  the  enemy,  at  least  no  personal  reference. 
There  is  a  vague  sense  of  the  enemy's  direction, 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  A   RECRUIT  77 

described  as  "twelve  o'clock"  if  it  be  immediately 
ahead,  or  "one  o'clock"  if  it  be  a  little  to  the 
right,  etc.  But  you  entertain  no  murderous 
thoughts  except  for  the  person,  luckily  unknown, 
who  invented  your  pack;  and  you  are  not  appre- 
hensive or  sorry  for  the  enemy,  for  you  are  too 
profoundly,  too  whole-heartedly  sorry  for  your- 
self. 

In  all  this  there  is  a  most  extraordinary  altera- 
tion of  one's  scale  of  values.  I  think  I  can  under- 
stand something  of  the  mind  of  the  soldier  in 
the  trenches  who  welcomes  the  order  to  stand 
erect,  preferring  the  chance  of  death  to  another 
moment  of  agonizing  cramp.  At  such  times  re- 
mote memories  and  prospects,  the  normal  hopes 
and  fears  of  life,  are  expelled  by  importunate 
sensations.  One  is  either  too  acutely  wretched, 
or  too  gloriously  happy,  for  either  anxiety  or 
regret.  The  range  of  consciousness  is  narrowed 
to  aches  and  pains,  or  to  such  soul-satisfying  joys 
as  full  respiration  and  restored  circulation. 

There  are  compensations  in  hardship,  wholly 
unsuspected  by  those  who  have  not  lived  through 
them.  To  stretch  one's  limbs  without  a  pack,  to 
sit  by  the  roadside  against  a  bank,  to  drink  luke- 
warm water  out  of  an  aluminum  can,  to  eat  beans 
out  of  a  tub,  to  bathe  by  hundreds  in  one  shallow 


78    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

brook,  to  mitigate  the  natural  roughness  of  one's 
stubble  bed  with  a  bit  of  straw — it  requires  some 
cultivation  to  raise  these  experiences  to  the  pitch 
of  ecstasy.  But  it  is  worth  while.  When,  in 
decorous  society,  one  is  informed  that  "  Dinner 
is  served,"  it  is  in  apologetic  and  doubtful  tones, 
as  though  the  announcement  were  intrusive  or 
unwelcome.  But  with  what  glad  emotion  does 
one  spring  forward,  unashamed,  with  mess-kit 
extended  for  instant  use,  when  one  hears  the 
hearty  roar  of  the  Falstaffian  undershirted  cook: 
"E  Company  !    Come  and  git  it !" 

There  is  a  popular  belief  that  it  is  a  fine  thing 
to  be  an  officer,  or  even  a  " non-com."  And  it  is 
doubtless  important  that  this  belief  should  be 
professed  in  training  camps.  But  volumes  might 
be  written  confidentially  on  the  luxury  of  being 
a  private.  When,  in  one  of  the  occasional  lulls 
between  the  stated  exercises  of  the  day,  some 
sergeant  shouts  down  the  company  street,  "Squad 
leaders  come  and  get  ammunition,"  or  "Non- 
commissioned officers  report  at  the  first  ser- 
geant's tent,"  then  if  you  are  a  private  there 
steals  over  you  the  delicious  realization  that  it 
does  not  mean  you.  It  is  like  sick-call  when  one 
is  well.  I  despair  of  making  an  uninitiated  person 
realize  the  full  significance  of  an  order  that  does 


IMPRESSIONS  OF  A   RECRUIT  79 

not  mean  you.  Your  poor  corporal  scurries  out 
of  the  tent,  you  hastily  take  possession  of  the 
much-coveted  ramrod  which  he  has  been  forced 
to  leave  behind,  and  then  and  there,  thanks  to 
your  corporal's  harder  lot,  you  enjoy  a  genuine 
sense  of  leisure.  Not  that  you  do  nothing — only 
exhaustion  justifies  that.  But  you  clean  your 
gun  with  a  cosey  feeling  that  you  have  got  at 
least  that  day's  work  well  in  hand. 

Let  me  hasten  to  add  that  cleaning  your  gun 
does  not  mean  the  same  thing  as  making  your 
gun  clean.  It  means  an  infinite  series  of  motions 
approaching  cleanness  as  a  limit  which  they 
never  reach.  Each  rag  seems  to  come  through 
the  muzzle  blacker  than  the  last.  The  captain 
calls  special  attention  to  screw-heads  and  other 
minute  cavities,  and  you  poke  individual  grains 
of  sand  about  in  them  with  the  point  of  a  pin; 
but  you  never  get  them  all.  The  simple  child- 
like faith  with  which  this  task  of  Sisyphus  is 
performed  is  touching.  It  becomes  in  time  a 
sort  of  harmless  mania,  a  chronic  activity  which 
one  automatically  resumes  whenever  not  diverted 
by  more  urgent  business. 

Corporals  and  sergeants  enjoy  no  immunity 
from  rifle-cleaning,  pack-carrying,  or  any  of  the 
thousand  duties  that  keep  a  private  on  a  panting 
dog-trot  from  reveille  to  taps,  and  since  they  are 


80    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

burdened  with  other  duties  as  well,  their  lot  is 
hard.  The  worst  of  it  is  that  they  have  to  think 
and  make  decisions.  At  least  they  have  to  try, 
which  is  just  as  bad.  But  the  last  thing  that  is 
wanted  of  a  private  is  that  he  should  have  ideas 
of  his  own.  Even  when  in  doubt  as  to  his  orders, 
a  private  who  is  fully  alive  to  his  prerogatives 
will  ask  his  corporal,  and  wait  patiently  and  rest- 
fully  for  him  to  find  out.  The  great  thing  is  that 
a  private  can,  by  an  adroit  passivity,  both  earn 
praise  for  his  soldierly  obedience  and  at  the  same 
time  ease  his  mind.  With  his  body  he  has  to  be 
everlastingly  at  it,  and  there  is  no  escaping  that 
pack.  But  the  non-commissioned  officer  is  a 
pack-animal  who  is  required  also  to  think — an 
unparalleled  cruelty;  while  the  commissioned 
officer,  if  he  has  less  on  his  back,  has  so  much  the 
more  on  his  mind.  Oh,  the  luxury  of  the  vacant 
mind !  Oh,  the  restfulness  of  the  obedient  and 
incurious  will !  Oh,  the  deep  peace  of  hooking 
the  canteen  under  the  fifth  right-hand  pocket  of 
the  belt,  without  having  to  decide  between  the 
fourth  or  the  fifth,  or  inquire  why  it  should  be 
either ! 

Soldierly  experiences  are  common  experiences, 
and  are  hallowed  by  that  fact.    You  are  asked  to 


IMPRESSIONS   OF  A   RECRUIT  81 

do  no  more  than  hundreds  of  others,  as  good  or 
better  than  yourself,  do  with  you.  If  you  rinse 
your  greasy  mess-kit  in  a  tub  of  greasier  water, 
you  are  one  of  many  gathered  like  thirsty  birds 
about  a  roadside  puddle.  If  you  fill  your  lungs 
and  the  pores  of  your  sweaty  skin  with  dust, 
fellows  in  adversity  are  all  about  you,  looking 
grimier  than  you  feel;  and  your  very  complaints 
uttered  in  chorus  partake  of  the  quality  of  defiant 
song.  To  walk  is  one  thing,  to  march,  albeit 
with  sore  feet  and  aching  back,  is  another  and 
more  triumphant.  It  is  "Hail !  Hail !  the  gang's 
all  here,"  or  "  Glorious !  Glorious !  one  keg  of  beer 
for  the  four  of  us" — it  matters  not  what  the 
words  signify,  provided  they  have  a  rhythmic 
swing  and  impart  a  choral  sense  of  collective 
unity.  Special  privilege  and  personal  fastidious- 
ness, all  that  marks  one  individual  off  from  the 
rest  in  taste  or  in  good  fortune,  seeks  to  hide  it- 
self. Instead  there  is  the  common  uniform,  pre- 
scribed to  the  last  string  and  button,  the  common 
nakedness  of  the  daily  swim,  the  common  routine, 
the  common  hardships,  and  in  and  through  it  all 
the  common  loyalty  and  purpose. 

To  many  this  is  the  first  dawning  consciousness 
of  the  fellowship  of  country.  Patriotism  is  not 
praised  or  taught,  it  is  taken  for  granted.     But 


82    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

though  inarticulate,  it  is  unmistakably  the  master 
motive.  There  is  a  fine  restraint  in  military  cere- 
mony that  enables  even  the  purest  product  of 
New  England  self-repression  to  feel — without 
awkwardness  or  self-consciousness.  Every  late 
afternoon  at  the  last  note  of  retreat,  the  flag  is 
lowered,  and  the  band  plays  "The  Star-Spangled 
Banner."  Men  in  ranks  are  ordered  to  atten- 
tion. Men  and  officers  out  of  ranks  stand  at 
attention  where  they  are,  facing  the  flag,  and 
saluting  as  the  music  ceases.  Thus  to  stand  at 
attention  toward  sundown,  listening  to  solemn 
music  sounding  faintly  in  •  the  distance,  to  see 
and  to  feel  that  every  fellow  soldier  is  standing 
also  rigid  and  intent — to  experience  this  reverent 
and  collective  silence  which  forbears  to  say  what 
cannot  be  said,  is  at  once  to  understand  and  to 
dedicate  that  day's  work. 


THE  FACT  OF  WAR  AND  THE  HOPE  OF 
PEACE 

RADICAL  pacifism  and  radical  militarism 
both  rest  upon  a  one-sided  view  of  the 
great  human  problem  of  international  polity. 
In  coming  to  see  the  error  of  both  of  these  forms 
of  propaganda,  we  shall,  I  believe,  approximate 
to  something  like  a  balanced  and  adequate  view. 
Radical  pacifism  may  be  said  to  contain  two 
ideas,  non-resistance  and  neutralism.  Non-re- 
sistance is  commonly  confused  with  unselfishness. 
As  a  matter  of  fact,  however,  under  present  con- 
ditions it  would  mean  saving  one's  own  skin  and 
one's  own  feelings  while  others'  suffered.  No 
one  will  dispute  the  right  of  an  individual  to  sub- 
mit passively  to  abuse,  provided  he  receives  the 
abuse  upon  his  own  person.  There  may  even  be 
a  certain  dignity  in  such  non-resistance.  An  in- 
dividual may  be  "too  proud  to  fight" — for  him- 
self. The  real  test  of  the  principle  comes  when 
you  apply  it  to  the  defense  of  those  you  love. 

S3 


84    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

No  man  should  announce  himself  an  advocate 
of  non-resistance  who  is  not  prepared  to  acquiesce 
in  the  violation  of  his  wife  or  daughter.  No 
woman  can  be  at  heart  non-resistant  unless  she 
means  that  she  is  willing  to  surrender  her  child 
to  torture.  No  American  can  renounce  the  ap- 
peal to  arms  unless  he  can  think  with  equanimity 
of  the  extinction  of  his  race  or  the  crushing  of 
those  institutions  which  now  stir  his  civic  pride 
and  loyalty.  For  these  are  the  evils  which  an 
attacking  enemy  may  seek  to  perpetrate,  and 
which  defensive  warfare  aims  to  forestall.  The 
enemy's  will  in  the  matter  cannot  be  controlled. 
It  takes  two  to  make  peace,  but  either  party 
may  at  his  own  discretion  threaten  the  other 
with  the  blackest  evil  which  his  imagination  can 
invent.  He  may  force  upon  whomever  he  elects 
to  be  Ins  enemy  the  dilemma  of  armed  resistance 
or  of  submission  to  any  outrage  that  his  victim 
may  deem  most  unendurable.  To  be  non-re- 
sistant must  mean,  then,  that  one  regards  nothing 
as  unendurable — even  the  destruction  of  what  one 
loves  or  admires  or  has  sworn  to  serve  and  protect. 
There  is  a  theoiy  that  non-resistance  will  soften 
arrogance  and  disarm  brutality.  This  theory  is 
based  upon  the  extension  to  group  actions  and 
emotions,  of  influences  that  may  occasionally  be 


WAR  AND   PEACE  85 

exerted  by  one  personality  upon  another.  Collec- 
tive non-resistance  evokes  only  contempt.  The 
effect  of  non-resistance  when  practised  by  a  whole 
race  or  nation  is  unmistakably  apparent  in  the 
history  of  the  Jews  and  of  China.  A  caste  or 
conquering  race  that  is  accustomed  to  the  meek- 
ness of  inferiors  grows  hard  and  arrogant.  Unless 
in  the  last  analysis  men  or  nations  are  ready  to 
tight  for  their  honor  and  their  treasures,  material 
and  spiritual,  they  raise  up  enemies  whom  they 
invite  to  despoil  them.  Those  are  respected  who 
possess  reserves  of  rugged  determination,  who 
wear  a  quiet  and  unconscious  air  of  willingness 
to  defend  with  their  lives  whatever  they  hold  to 
be  priceless — their  goods,  their  country,  their 
friends,  their  loved  ones,  their  lives,  or  their 
principles. 

The  other  idea  which  distinguishes  radical 
pacifism  is  neutralism.  This  means  refusing  to 
take  sides,  reserving  judgment  in  the  presence  of 
the  great  struggle.  It  manifests  itself  in  the  pres- 
ent crisis  in  the  attitude  of  those  who  declare 
that  all  parties  are  equally  to  blame  or  equally 
innocent.  It  is  an  easy-going  policy,  for  it  saves 
the  pain  of  decision  and  permits  the  mind  to 
muddle  along  in  a  state  of  flabby  vacillation  and 
procrastination.    The  present  crisis  is  like  every 


86    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

great  political  and  social  crisis  in  that  it  is  the 
resultant  of  many  forces,  which  it  takes  hard 
thinking  and  clear  seeing  to  disentangle.  If  one 
is  to  stand  aside  because  a  problem  is  complicated 
one  may  as  well  go  into  a  hermit's  cell  a'nd  be 
done  with  it.  To  be  effective  in  this  world  is  to 
hazard  a  judgment  and  to  commit  oneself  to  it. 

The  worst  of  it  is  that  neutrality  may  so  easily 
become  a  habit  and  render  one  permanently 
hesitant  and  weak.  It  begets  indifference,  when 
it  does  not  spring  from  it.  If  one  cares  much  for 
one's  flag  one  will  find  it  flying  somewhere  and 
follow  it.  Furthermore,  those  who  proclaim 
neutralism  as  a  part  of  the  creed  of  pacifism  for- 
get that  the  possibility  of  permanent  peace  de- 
pends upon  the  cultivation  of  sentiment  and 
opinion.  It  is  absolutely  impossible  that  there 
should  be  a  public  opinion  strong  enough  to 
secure  peace,  which  shall  not  be  terrible  to  those 
who  disturb  the  peace.  One  cannot  hate  lawless- 
ness and  brutality  without  hating  those  who 
perpetrate  or  instigate  them.  To  be  tolerant  of 
manifest  and  present  evil  is  to  emasculate  one's 
moral  consciousness.  In  that  future  time  when 
state  war  is  as  exceptional  as  private  war  is  to- 
day, it  will  be  necessary  that  a  lawless  state  shall 
be  visited  with  the  same  resentment  and  swift 


WAR  AND  PEACE  87 

condemnation  that  is  now  visited  upon  the  law- 
less individual.  When,  therefore,  one  seeks  in 
the  name  of  peace  to  suppress  the  strong  senti- 
ment that  is  widely  felt  against  that  nation  which 
surpasses  all  others  in  violence  and  cruelty,  one 
is  counteracting  the  very  force  by  which  one's 
cause  may  hope  some  day  to  triumph. 

Non-resistance  and  neutralism  are  the  false 
friends  of  peace.  They  bring  disrepute  upon  it. 
There  can  be  no  propaganda  that  is  effective  and 
morally  sound  which  requires  one  to  yield  weakly 
to  hostile  attack,  or  to  emasculate  one's  judgment. 
If  there  be  any  excuse  for  these  excesses  in  the 
name  of  peace,  it  is  the  like  tendency  to  exag- 
geration which  marks  the  exponents  of  war. 

False  or  radical  militarism  is  also  characterized 
by  two  ideas.  The  first  of  these  is  the  belief  in  the 
necessity  or  institutional  character  of  war.  Plato, 
as  a  matter  of  course,  divided  his  Republic  into 
warriors,  merchants,  and  guardians.  He  regarded 
war  as  a  natural  function  of  the  political  organism, 
and  the  warrior  as  the  embodiment  of  spiritedness 
and  courage.  But  we  are  now  coming  to  the  view 
that  war  is  a  disease  to  which  the  race  is  peculiarly 
liable  in  its  infancy,  and  from  which  it  may  hope 
to  secure  immunity  in  its  maturity.  War  is  now 
known  to  be  natural  not  in  any  final  or  ideal 


88    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

sense,  but  in  the  sense  of  being  crude  and  primi- 
tive. It  is  one  of  the  things  that  civilization  seeks 
not  to  perfect,  but  to  outgrow  and  put  aside  alto- 
gether. 

Viewed  in  this  light,  the  soldier  is  the  symbol 
not  of  human  attainment,  but  of  affliction  and 
painful  necessity.  He  is  as  much  out  of  place  in 
the  perfected  society  as  the  rat-catcher  or  the 
policeman.  The  cost  of  war  has  grown  unbear- 
able, and  is  now  reckoned  more  accurately.  Its 
effects  have  grown  more  fatal  in  proportion  as 
social  organization  has  grown  more  elaborate  and 
more  delicately  adjusted.  Its  essential  clumsiness 
and  wastefulness,  its  swift  and  prodigious  de- 
structiveness,  are  intolerable  in  an  age  devoted 
to  constructive  and  progressive  civilization. 
Meanwhile  its  methods  have  so  altered  that  it 
has  almost  wholly  ceased  to  be  an  art  or  a  ro- 
mantic adventure  which  may  appeal  to  the 
amateur  or  which  a  man  may  follow  as  a  polite 
vocation.  It  is  even  ceasing  to  possess  a  code 
of  honor.  It  is  ugly,  sordid  and  prosaic,  offensive 
to  taste  and  repugnant  to  humanity. 

We  have  also  come  to  understand  that  the  pro- 
pensity to  war  is  not  incurable.  It  is  not  neces- 
sitated by  any  law  of  human  nature.  Even  were 
self-interest  the  law  of  human  nature,  that  law 


WAR  AND  PEACE  89 

would  dictate  peace  and  not  war.  For  security  is 
more  profitable  than  lawless  aggression,  and  prop- 
erty is  worth  more  than  plunder.  But  self-interest 
is  not  the  law  of  human  nature.  There  are  instincts 
of  neighborliness  which  increase  in  their  range 
as  news  and  travel  increase  the  circle  of  one's 
neighborhood.  There  are  some  instincts,  it  is 
true,  which  lend  themselves  to  warlike  uses; 
and  owing  to  an  accidental  emphasis  in  psycholog- 
ical theory,  we  have  recently  heard  much  of  them. 
But  though  there  be  an  instinct  of  pugnacity, 
there  is  no  instinct  of  war.  War  is  only  one  of 
divers  ways  in  which  the  instinct  of  pugnacity 
may  find  expression.  One  may  be  equally  pugna- 
cious in  the  interest  of  saving  souls  or  eradicating 
disease.  One  may  even  be  pugnacious  in  the 
cause  of  peace.  For  just  because  pugnacity  is  an 
instinct,  it  is  modifiable  and  plastic.  Not  only 
is  it  balanced  by  other  and  contrary  instincts, 
but  it  does  not  issue  in  conduct  until  it  has  as- 
sumed the  form  of  habit,  purpose  or  conscious 
will.  Man  has  instincts,  but  he  is  not  possessed 
by  them.  He  is  called  an  intelligent  or  rational 
being  because  he  can  check,  regulate  and  guide 
his  instincts  by  the  light  of  knowledge  and  direct 
them  to  the  good  ends  that  his  judgment  may 
adopt. 


90    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

A  fatalistic  acquiescence  in  war,  the  acceptance 
of  it  as  permanent  and  inevitable,  is  the  first  sign 
of  the  radical  militarist.  The  second  is  suspicion 
or  misanthropy.  Within  certain  limits  it  is  an 
almost  unfailing  rule  of  human  conduct  that  we 
shall  receive  from  men  what  we  manifestly  ex- 
pect of  them.  He  who  goes  about  with  scorn  or 
truculence  or  cold  suspicion  written  on  his  face 
will  find  it  reflected  in  every  face  he  sees.  He 
who  does  not  expect  to  be  spoken  to  will  find 
himself  cut  by  his  acquaintances;  the  man  of 
cold  reserve  will  find  himself  living  in  a  com- 
munity of  snobs.  On  the  other  hand,  a  child 
wins  kind  words  and  kind  looks  because  he  so 
unhesitatingly  and  confidently  assumes  that  he 
is  going  to  get  them.  The  misanthrope  thinks 
that  he  finds  confirmation  of  his  opinion  from  the 
facts,  whereas  in  reality  he  causes  the  facts  him- 
self. 

A  like  phenomenon  appears  in  the  relations  of 
nations.  Suspicion  begets  suspicion;  suspicion 
mounts  to  hatred,  which  begets  hatred;  while 
all  the  time  a  different  original  attitude  might 
have  stimulated  a  latent  kindliness  or  called  at- 
tention to  common  interests  and  so  have  led  to 
a  habit  of  friendship.  Mischievous  gossip  may 
do  much  to  create  artificial  enmities  between  one 


WAR  AND   PEACE  91 

man  and  another.  Between  nations  this  danger 
is  magnified  by  the  difficulty  of  obtaining  news, 
and  by  the  possibility  that  the  very  instrumental- 
ities of  news  may  be  used  to  provoke  and  foster 
enmity.  There  is  therefore  need  of  a  good  will 
that  shall  not  only  be  cordial  and  resolute,  but 
that  shall  accord  the  benefit  of  the  doubt.  There 
was  never  greater  need  of  such  an  attitude  than 
at  the  present  time,  nor  a  better  application  than 
our  relations  with  Japan.  A  sneering  contempt 
for  the  motives  of  others,  a  quickness  to  believe 
malicious  or  chance  rumors  when  they  agree 
with  the  creed  of  selfishness,  and  to  charge  every 
profession  of  disinterestedness  with  insincerity — 
nothing  could  be  better  calculated  than  this  to 
suppress  whatever  impulses  to  generosity,  candor 
and  cordiality  our  human  nature  prompts.  Such 
an  attitude  is  neither  enlightened  nor  humane. 
It  is  a  persistent  belief  only  in  the  worse  possi- 
bilities, and  so  is  unscientific;  it  acts  as  a  re- 
straint upon  the  better  possibilities,  and  so  is 
mischievous. 

Such  are  the  extravagances  of  a  false  pacifism 
and  of  a  false  militarism.  In  so  far  as  they  are 
committed  to  these  extravagances  both  propa- 
gandas must  be  rejected.  It  is  an  intolerable 
dilemma  which  forces  one  to  choose  between  being 


92     THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

a  sentimentalist  and  being  a  reactionary.  The 
great  majority  of  thinking  men  must  decline  to  be 
either.  The  association  of  both  propagandas 
with  their  extravagances  tends  to  a  state  of  hope- 
lessness and  inaction,  and  obscures  the  real  prob- 
lem. It  is  necessary  to  move  forward  in  this 
matter,  as  in  all  other  great  affairs  that  involve 
collective  action,  by  a  series  of  steps  that  shall 
secure  new  benefits  without  forfeiting  old.  What 
all  men  must  desire  to  secure  is  a  durable  peace 
without  loss  of  liberty,  honor  or  self-respect. 
Any  plan  by  which  one  buys  off  one's  enemy  by 
the  surrender  of  independence  or  principle  is 
wholly  beside  the  point.  By  tame  submission 
to  allow  any  belligerent  to  have  his  way  is  to 
confirm  him  in  his  creed  of  lawless  aggression. 
On  the  other  hand,  to  fall  back  blindly  on  the  old 
shibboleths  of  nationalism  and  patriotism  is  to 
acknowledge  the  failure  of  civilization.  It  follows 
that  nations  must  so  fight  for  their  liberties  and 
their  principles  as  to  bring  that  day  nearer  when 
it  shall  no  longer  be  necessary  to  fight  for  them. 
There  is  a  wide-spread  impression  that  there  is 
something  incompatible  between  these  two  at- 
titudes, the  acceptance  of  war  as  a  deplorable 
present  necessity,  and  the  pursuit  of  peace  as  a 
glorious   hope.     But   there   is   no   such   incom- 


WAR  AND  PEACE  93 

patibility.  On  the  contrary,  such  a  mixture  of 
expediency  and  idealism  is  one  of  the  most  fa- 
miliar and  universal  facts  of  life.  That  which  dis- 
tinguishes constructive  progress  from  mere  pious 
wishing  is  the  use  of  present  means  to  bring  one 
forward  toward  one's  end.  The  present  means 
will  always  be  of  that  age  which  one  seeks  to 
leave  behind.  It  is  necessary  to  walk  until  one 
can  ride,  and  to  ride  until  one  can  fly.  It  is  only 
the  fanatical  mind  which  fails  to  see  so  obvious  a 
fact,  or  to  govern  itself  by  a  principle  so  funda- 
mental and  so  indispensable  to  all  forward  action. 

I  submit,  then,  that  we  need  a  propaganda 
that  shall  take  the  middle  ground,  and  recognize 
the  real  problem.  In  place  of  war  parties  and 
peace  parties  that  exaggerate  their  own  half- 
truths,  and  ignore  all  other  half-truths,  thus 
blinding  our  eyes  and  impotently  consuming  our 
passions  and  energies,  we  need  the  wise  and 
balanced  mind,  adjusted  to  the  needs  of  the 
hour  and  inspired  with  hope  of  the  future. 

Persons  so  minded  will  agree  that  there  is  war 
in  fact,  and  that  so  long  as  there  is  war  there  is 
danger.  Where  there  is  danger  any  thoughtful 
mind  must  commend  caution  and  foresight,  so 
that  the  danger  may  be  well  and  effectively  met 
in  proportion  to  its  imminence  and  its  magnitude. 


94     THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

But  it  is  no  less  imperative  that  the  hope  of  peace 
should  be  kept  bright  and  that  the  purpose  to 
attain  permanent  peace  should  be  undaunted. 
Prophecy  and  inspiration  are  as  important  as 
efficiency  and  trained  judgment.  It  is  no  less 
important  to  contrive  new  social  and  political  de- 
vices and  to  agitate  for  their  application  and  trial. 
Projects  for  disarmament,  for  an  international 
court,  or  for  the  publicity  of  diplomatic  negotia- 
tions, should  not  be  regarded  as  vain  imaginings 
because  they  depart  from  ancient  practise,  but  as 
inventions  by  which  after  trial  and  selection  men 
may  eventually  forge  the  tools  by  which  to  es- 
tablish a  new  and  better  practise.  In  short,  the 
upward  road  of  progress  can  be  ascended  only 
by  one  who  both  keeps  his  footing  secure,  and 
looks  ahead  with  ardor  and  imagination. 


VI 

WHAT  IS  WORTH  FIGHTING  FOR? 

NOT  long  ago  a  newspaper  despatch  from 
Leicester,  England,  described  the  untimely 
fate  of  a  travelling  band  of  pacifist  preachers  who 
styled  themselves  "The  Fellowship  of  Recon- 
ciliation." It  appears  that  the  good  patriots  of 
Leicester  beat  them  soundly,  burned  their  camp 
and  equipment,  and  concluded  the  matter  by 
singing  "Tipperary"  and  "God  Save  the  King" 
over  the  ashes. 

The  incident  epitomizes  the  absurd  but  deeply 
tragic  plight  of  man.  His  bravest  and  most  ex- 
alted purposes,  those  of  nationality  and  human- 
ity, are  driving  him  to  self-destruction.  There 
is  more  of  tragedy  in  this  than  a  present  loss  of 
life  and  material  goods;  there  is  a  dreadful  sug- 
gestion of  doom,  as  when  one  first  detects  symp- 
toms of  an  incurable  disease.  There  is  a  seeming 
fatality  in  life  by  which  right  motives  impel  man 
to  work  evil.  Intelligence,  self-sacrifice,  devo- 
tion to  a  cause,  those  qualities  of  mind  and  will 

95 


96     THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

on  which  we  have  been  taught  to  pride  ourselves, 
seem  only  to  make  men  more  terrible,  or  more 
weak,  according  as  they  turn  to  deeds  or  to 
meditation.  To  take  up  arms  and  destroy,  or 
to  sit  passively  by  while  destruction  rages  unre- 
buked — there  is  apparently  neither  virtue  nor 
happiness  in  either  course.  If  such  be  the  pre- 
dicament of  man,  it  is  not  surprising  that  many 
are  praying  that  the  curt'ain  be  rung  down  and 
an  end  made  of  the  whole  sorry  business. 

In  what  I  have  here  to  say  I  address  those  who 
are  still  determined  to  think  the  matter  through 
notwithstanding  the  fact  that,  as  Mr.  Tulliver 
says,  "thinking  is  mighty  puzzling  work."  De- 
spair we  may  reserve  as  a  course  of  last  resort. 
Likewise  the  death-bed  consolations  of  religion 
by  which  human  weal  and  woe  are  left  to  the  in- 
scrutable wisdom  of  Almighty  God.  When  the 
present  scene  becomes  too  painful  we  may  shut 
our  eyes,  or  turn  to  some  celestial  vision.  But  I 
for  one  cannot  yet  absolve  myself  from  respon- 
sibility. There  is  a  task  of  civilization  and  social 
progress  to  which  man  has  so  solemnly  pledged 
himself  that  he  cannot  abandon  it  with  honor. 
And  in  this  hour  of  trial  that  pledge  requires  us 
to  form  a  plan  of  action  which  shall  be  neither 
an  act  of  blind  faith  nor  a  confession  of  failure. 


WHAT  IS  WORTH  FIGHTING  FOR?     97 

We  must  endeavor  both  to  see  our  way  and  to 
make  our  way. 

How  shall  the  constructive  work  of  civilization 
be  saved  and  promoted?  It  would  be  a  much 
simpler  matter  if  it  were  only  one's  "inward 
peace"  that  was  at  stake.  Mr.  Bertrand  Russell 
tells  us  that  "the  greatest  good  that  can  be 
achieved  in  this  life  is  to  have  will  and  desire 
directed  to  universal  ends,  purged  of  the  self- 
assertion  which  belongs  to  instinctive  will."  ! 
But  there  is  one  greater  good,  and  that  is  the 
accomplishment  of  these  universal  ends.  This  is 
a  much  more  baffling  and  hazardous  undertaking. 
It  requires  a  man  not  only  to  make  up  his  mind, 
but  to  bring  things  to  pass.  It  becomes  neces- 
sary to  use  the  harsh  and  dangerous  instruments 
by  which  things  are  done  in  this  world.  Civiliza- 
tion is  not  saved  by  the  mere  purging  of  one's 
heart,  but  by  the  work  of  one's  hands.  The  forces 
of  destruction  must  be  met,  each  according  to  its 
kind,  by  the  forces  of  deliverance.  The  belief 
that  when  a  man  has  struck  an  attitude,  and 
has  braved  it  out  in  the  midst  of  a  rough  and 
vulgar  world,  he  has  somehow  solved  the  prob- 
lem and  done  his  duty,  underlies  much  of  the 
pacific  sentiment  that  is  now  abroad.    It  is  a 

1  Atlantic  Montldy,  August,  1915,  p.  267. 


98    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

dangerous  error,  because  it  makes  the  difficulties 
of  life  seem  so  much  simpler  than  they  really 
are,  and  may  teach  a  man  to  be  perfectly  satisfied 
with  himself  when  he  has  really  only  evaded  the 
issue. 

For  what  does  this  philosophy  of  inward  recti- 
tude really  mean  and  imply?  In  the  first  place, 
it  is  self-centred  and  individualistic.  Life  becomes 
an  affair  between  each  man  and  his  own  soul,  a 
sort  of  spiritual  toilet  before  the  mirror  of  self- 
consciousness.  Social  relations  only  furnish  oc- 
casions for  the  perfecting  of  self,  trials  by  which 
one  may  test  the  firmness  of  one's  own  mind. 
The  state,  economic  life,  and  other  forms  of  co- 
operative association,  lose  their  intrinsic  impor- 
tance, and  tend  to  be  replaced  by  a  select  frater- 
nity of  kindred  spirits,  in  which  each  is  confirmed 
in  his  aloofness  from  the  vain  hopes  and  petty 
fears  of  the  world  of  action. 

The  crucial  test  of  such  a  principle  of  life  is 
afforded  by  the  presence  of  a  danger  which 
threatens  others  whom  one  may  be  pledged  to 
serve,  or  some  larger  good  extending  beyond  the 
limits  of  one's  personal  life.  Whether  to  save 
one's  own  peace  of  mind  at  the  expense  of  one's 
own  life  or  property  is  a  question  which  may  well 
be  left  to  the  individual  to  decide  for  himself. 


WHAT  IS  WORTH  FIGHTING  FOR?     99 

But  as  so  often  happens,  this  relatively  simple 
question  is  also  relatively  trivial.  Such  a  choice 
is  rarely  if  ever  presented.  Certainly  the  emer- 
gency in  which  war  arises  is  never  one  which  a 
sympathetic  and  imaginative  person  can  meet 
merely  by  applying  the  scale  of  his  own  personal 
preferences.  It  is  not  one's  own  person  that  is 
imperilled.  As  a  matter  of  fact  it  requires  the 
most  colossal  egotism  to  suppose  that  the  enemy 
has  any  interest  whatever  in  one's  own  person. 
It  is  the  collective  life,  the  state,  the  national 
tradition  and  ambition,  the  chosen  and  idealized 
civilization,  the  general  state  of  happiness  and 
well-being  in  the  community — it  is  these  that  are 
in  danger,  and  it  is  these  that  one  must  weigh 
against  one's  private  tranquillity. 

If  the  matter  be  viewed  in  this  light,  it  is  a  little 
absurd  to  step  forward  and  gallantly  offer  one's 
life  in  exchange  for  being  allowed  the  privilege 
of  dying  innocuously!  Such  an  offer  will  sound 
heroic  to  no  one  but  oneself,  and  to  oneself 
only  in  so  far  as  one  has  lost  both  sympathy  and 
imagination.  It  is  doubtless  vexatious  that  one 
cannot  be  allowed  to  choose  for  oneself  alone, 
but  such  is  the  hard  condition  of  life.  When  one 
chooses  to  take  up  arms  or  to  suffer  the  enemy 
to  triumph,  one  is  disposing,  not  of  oneself,  but 


ioo    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

of  all  those  lives,  possessions  and  institutions 
which  the  enemy  threatens  and  which  it  lies 
within  one's  power  to  defend. 

But  the  philosophy  of  inward  rectitude  is  not 
merely  self-centred,  it  is  also  formal  and  prudish. 
It  is  pervaded  with  a  spirit  of  correct  deport- 
ment. Its  aversion  to  war  is  largely  due  to  a 
feeling  that  war  is  banal,  and  incompatible  with 
the  posture  of  personal  dignity.  The  philosopher's 
cloak  must  be  thrown  aside  if  one  is  to  adopt  the 
graceless  and  immoderate  gait  of  the  soldier. 
War  is  intolerable,  just  as  running  is  intolerable 
to  one  who  has  come  to  enjoy  the  full  measure  of 
self-respect  only  when  he  is  permitted  to  move 
with  a  slow  and  rhythmic  strut. 

But  this  is  the  antithesis  of  the  spirit  of  enter- 
prise. Genuine  devotion  to  an  end,  intently  work- 
ing for  it,  will  render  one  unconscious  of  the  inci- 
dental movements  and  postures  it  involves,.  A 
formalist  would  not  He  on  his  back  under  an  au- 
tomobile, because  such  an  attitude  would  not 
comport  with  a  preconceived  model  of  himself  as 
an  upright,  heavenward  being  of  a  superior  order; 
whereas  a  traveller,  bent  on  reaching  his  destina- 
tion, would  not  shrink  even  from  the  aboriginal 
slime,  if  only  he  might  find  a  way  to  go  forward. 
Similarly  if  it  were  all  a  matter  of  propriety  of 


WHAT  IS  WORTH  FIGHTING  FOR?     101 

demeanor,  one  could  refuse  the  ugliness  of  war 
and  shut  one's  eyes  to  the  sequel.  But  if  one's 
heart  be  set  on  saving  civilization,  so  laboriously 
achieved,  so  fragile  and  perishable,  then  one's 
personal  attitude  is  contemptibly  insignificant. 
All  that  really  matters  is  the  fidelity  with  which 
one  has  done  one's  work  and  kept  one's  trust. 

Nor  will  it  suffice  to  quote  Plato,  and  take 
comfort  in  the  thought  that  the  ideals  are  them- 
selves eternal  and  incorruptible.  For  that  which 
enemies  threaten  and  champions  defend,  is  not 
the  ideal  itself,  but  some  earthly,  mortal  thing 
which  is  made  in  its  image.  The  labor  and  art 
of  life  is  not  to  create  justice  and  happiness  in 
the  abstract,  but  to  build  just  cities  and  promote 
happy  lives.  And  these  can  be  burned  with  fire 
and  slain  by  the  sword.  If  one  is  prepared  to 
renounce  the  existent  world  and  the  achieve- 
ments of  history,  one  may  perhaps  escape  the 
need  of  war.  But  let  no  man  fail  to  realize  that 
he  has  then  virtually  given  up  the  whole  creation 
of  the  race,  all  the  fruits  of  all  the  painful  toil 
of  men,  even  the  spiritual  fruits  of  culture  and 
character.  For  these  spiritual  fruits  are  indi- 
vidual lives  which  may  be  as  utterly  destroyed  as 
the  work  of  man's  hands. 

It  is  futile  to  argue  that  the  good  life  cannot 


102     THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

be  destroyed  by  an  enemy.  It  is  true  that  it 
cannot  be  corrupted,  and  made  evil.  But  it  may 
be  killed.  The  good  life  is  more  than  mere  good- 
ness; it  is  living  goodness,  embodied  in  existence 
and  conduct.  He  who  slays  a  just  man  or  anni- 
hilates a  free  and  happy  society,  undoes  the  work 
of  moral  progress  as  fatally,  nay  more  fatally, 
than  he  who  corrupts  them  with  injustice  and 
slavery.  For  in  the  latter  case  there  at  least 
remain  the  latent  capacities  by  which  civilization 
may  be  rebuilt.  Those  who  insist  on  the  distinc- 
tion between  might  and  right  and  accuse  the 
warrior  of  practising  might  in  the  name  of  right, 
are  likely  on  their  part  to  forget  that  the  work 
of  civilization  is  to  make  the  right  also  mighty,  so 
that  it  may  obtain  among  men  and  prevail.  This 
end  is  not  to  be  realized  by  any  philosophy  of 
abstinence  and  contemplation,  but  only  by  a  use 
of  the  physical  forces  by  which  things  are  brought 
to  exist  and  by  which  alone  they  are  made  se- 
cure against  violence  and  decay. 

Having  considered  the  philosophy  by  which 
men  avoid  war,  let  us  now  consider  another 
philosophy  by  which  men  make  war,  with  an 
equally  easy  conscience  and  an  equally  untroubled 
mind.     I  refer  to  the  philosophy  of  nationalism: 


WHAT  IS  WORTH  FIGHTING  FOR?     103 

the  worship  of  the  individual  state  as  an  end  in 
itself,  and  the  justification  of  conduct  solely  by 
the  principle  of  patriotism.  Such  a  creed  may 
be  idealized  by  a  belief  that  the  ultimate  good 
lies  in  the  progressive  strife  of  opposing  national 
ideals;  a  strife  winch  is  humanly  discordant  and 
tragic,  but  is  rounded  into  some  sort  of  all-saving 
harmony  in  the  eternal  whole.  Practically  this 
makes  no  difference  except  to  add  to  the  motive 
of  national  interest  the  sense  of  a  heaven-sent 
mission.  The  only  end  by  which  the  individual 
is  required  to  judge  his  action  is  that  of  the  power 
and  glory  of  his  own  state.  To  that  is  merely 
added  the  dogma  that  national  conquest  and  ag- 
grandizement are  good  for  the  world  even  if  the 
poor  world  doesn't  know  it.  By  such  a  dogma 
a  people  whose  international  policy  is  unscru- 
pulously aggressive  may  enjoy  at  the  same  time 
an  ecstatic  conscience  and  a  sense  of  philosophical 
enlightenment.  Hence  this  is  the  most  formida- 
ble and  terrible  of  all  philosophies.  Its  devastat- 
ing effects  are  manifest  in  the  world  to-day. 

There  are  two  fatal  errors  in  this  philosophy. 
The  first  is  the  assumption  that  the  state  is  some- 
thing apart  from  the  happiness  and  well-being  of 
its  members.  The  state,  contrived  to  serve  men, 
becomes  instead,  through  tradition,  prestige  and 


104    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

its  power  to  perpetuate  its  own  agencies,  an  ob- 
ject of  idolatrous  worship.  Under  its  spell  free 
men  forget  their  rights,  wise  men  their  reason, 
and  good  men  their  humanity.  The  second  error 
is  the  dogma  that  the  narrow  loyalties  of  nations 
will  best  serve  the  universal  good.  There  is  no 
evidence  for  this.  It  is  the  joint  product  of  na- 
tional bigotry  and  of  an  ethics  manufactured 
by  metaphysicians.  The  experience  of  the  race 
points  unmistakably  to  the  fatally  destructive 
character  of  narrow  loyalties,  and  teaches  the 
need  of  applying  to  national  conduct  the  same 
standards  of  moderation,  justice  and  good-will 
that  are  already  generally  applied  to  the  relations 
of  man  and  man. 

There  is  one  further  way  of  evading  the  real 
difficulty  of  our  problem,  but  this  can  be  dis- 
missed with  a  bare  mention.  I  refer  to  the  flip- 
pant and  irresponsible  scepticism  which  holds  all 
human  purposes  to  be  equally  valid  because  all 
are  equally  blind  and  dogmatic.  The  sceptic 
views  with  mild  derision  the  attempts  of  man  to 
justify  his  passions.  He  holds  all  nations  to  be 
equally  at  fault,  equally  self-deceived,  and  equally 
pitiful.  The  folly  and  discord  of  life  do  not  sur- 
prise him,  for  he  expects  nothing  better  than 
that  man  should  consume  himself.     On  such  a 


WHAT  IS  WORTH  FIGHTING  FOR?     105 

philosophy  war  and  peace  are  not  to  be  seriously 
argued,  but  accepted  as  fatalities,  whose  irony 
affords  a  refined  enjoyment  to  the  emancipated 
mind. 

These,  then,  are  the  philosophies  of  evasion 
and  irresponsibility.  Before  accepting  any  of 
them  it  behooves  one  to  be  clearly  conscious  of 
what  they  imply.  It  is  impossible  here  to  argue 
these  deeper  questions  through.  It  must  suffice 
to  point  out  that  all  of  these  philosophies  are  op- 
posed to  the  beliefs  on  which  modern  democratic 
societies  are  founded.  Unless  we  are  to  renounce 
these  beliefs,  we  must  refuse  in  this  grave  crisis 
to  listen  to  any  counsel  that  is  not  hopeful  and 
constructive,  that  does  not  recommend  itself  to 
reason,  and  that  does  not  define  a  program  of 
universal  human  betterment.  When  such  a  so- 
lution is  firmly  insisted  on,  the  real  difficulties  of 
the  problem  appear.  But  though  one  may  well 
be  troubled  to  find  the  way,  one  may  at  least  be 
saved  from  the  greater  evil  of  self-deception. 

There  is  no  fair  escape  from  the  tragic  paradox 
that  man  must  destroy  in  order  to  save.  Never 
before  has  this  paradox  been  so  vividly  realized. 
Man  goes  forth  with  torch  and  powder  to  restore 
the  primitive  desolation,  and  to  add  to  the  nat- 


106    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

ural  evils — from  which  he  has  barely  escaped — 
more  frightful  evils  of  his  own  contriving.  He 
does  this  in  the  name  of  home,  country,  hu- 
manity and  God.  Furthermore,  he  finds  himself 
so  situated  that  neither  conscience  nor  reason 
permits  him  any  other  course.  His  very  purpose 
of  beneficence  requires  him  to  practise  vandalism, 
cruelty  and  homicide  upon  a  vast  scale  and  with 
a  refinement  proportional  to  his  knowledge  and 
inventiveness.  It  may  well  seem  credulous  to 
find  in  this  anything  more  than  a  fatal  madness 
by  which  man  is  hastened  to  his  doom. 

But  there  is  just  one  angle  from  which  it  may 
be  possible  to  discern  some  method  in  this  mad- 
ness. We  must  learn  to  regard  war,  not  as  an 
isolated  phenomenon,  but  as  merely  the  most 
aggravated  and  the  most  impressive  instance  of 
the  universal  moral  situation.  This  fundamental 
predicament  of  life,  which  gives  rise  to  all  moral 
perplexities,  is  the  conflict  of  interests.  When 
war  is  viewed  in  this  light,  we  may  then  see  in 
justifiable  war  a  special  application  of  the  most 
general  of  all  ethical  principles,  namely,  the 
principle  of  discipline  or  provident  restraint.  Given 
the  natural  conflict  of  interests,  this  principle  de- 
fines the  only  alternative  to  waste  and  mutual 
destruction.    It  means  simply  that  under  actual 


WHAT  IS  WORTH  FIGHTING  FOR?     107 

conditions  the  greatest  abundance  of  life  on  the 
whole  is  to  be  secured  only  by  a  confining,  prun- 
ing or  uprooting  of  those  special  interests  which 
imperil  the  stability  and  harmony  of  the  whole. 

When  such  restraint  is  not  self-imposed,  it 
must  be  imposed  externally.  The  first  lessons  in 
restraint  are  doubtless  learned  from  rivals  and 
enemies  who  are  governed  by  selfish  purposes 
of  their  own.  But  the  moral  principle  proper 
appears  only  when  restraint  is  exercised  with  a 
provident  purpose,  that  is,  for  the  sake  of  the 
greater  good  that  will  result;  as  when  a  man  re- 
frains from  excess  for  the  sake  of  long  life,  or  re- 
spects his  neighbor's  property  for  the  sake  of  a 
general  security  and  prosperity.  Similarly  a 
teacher  or  parent  may  restrain  a  wilful  child, 
and  a  ruler  a  lawless  subject,  in  the  interest  of 
all,  including  the  individual  so  restrained.  It  is 
customary  to  question  such  motives,  but  the 
hypocrite  would  have  no  success,  nor  the  cynic 
any  claim  to  critical  penetration,  were  these 
motives  not  so  common  as  to  establish  the  rule. 
As  a  matter  of  fact  they  are  as  solidly  psycholog- 
ical as  any  fact  regarding  human  nature. 

Restraint,  howrever  exercised,  is  in  its  first 
effect  negative  and  destructive.  To  set  limits  to 
an  appetite,  to  bar  the  way  to  childish  caprice,  to 


108    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

forbid  an  act  and  call  it  crime,  is  in  some  degree 
to  inflict  pain  and  death,  to  destroy  some  living 
impulse.  But  it  is  none  the  less  morally  neces- 
sary. And  it  matters  not  whether  the  act  of 
restraint  be  simple  and  unpremeditated  or  com- 
plex and  calculated,  involving  hosts  of  men  and 
all  the  complex  mechanism  of  modern  war.  It 
is  still  possible,  on  the  larger  scale  as  on  the 
smaller,  that  the  act  of  restraint  should  be  re- 
quired by  a  larger  purpose  which  is  constructive 
and  humane. 

It  is  sometimes  argued  that  an  act  of  violence 
or  coercion  can  have  such  a  moral  motive  only 
when  it  is  performed  by  a  "neutral  authority" 
who  has  nothing  to  gain  or  lose  by  the  transac- 
tion. It  is  further  argued  that,  since  in  the  case 
of  international  disputes  no  such  disinterested 
party  exists,  no  use  of  violence  or  coercion  can 
be  justified.  Persons  who  reason  in  this  way 
must  be  supposed  to  believe  in  the  miraculous 
origin  of  all  kings  and  policemen.  The  forcible 
prevention  of  robbery  must  to  their  mind  have 
become  just,  when  and  only  when  there  suddenly 
appeared  on  the  scene  a  special  heaven-sent  race 
of  beings  wearing  blue  coats  and  billies,  and 
having  no  passions  or  property  of  their  own. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  however,  robbers  were  first 


WHAT  IS  WORTH  FIGHTING  FOR?     109 

put  down  by  the  robbed.  Their  suppression  was 
justified  not  because  those  who  suppressed  them 
gained  nothing  by  it  (for  they  certainly  did  gain), 
but  because  that  suppression  was  enacted  in  be- 
half of  a  general  community  good  in  which  the 
interests  of  the  robber  and  his  kind  were  also 
counted.  And  whatever  be  the  historical  genesis 
of  the  state,  whether  paternity  or  plunder,  this 
much  is  certain:  that  the  functions  of  the  state 
were  at  first,  and  have  been  in  a  measure  ever 
since,  exercised  by  men  who  have  derived  per- 
sonal profit  therefrom.  The  function  of  the 
state,  its  purpose  of  collective  order,  power  and 
welfare,  came  into  existence  long  ages  before 
constitutions  and  charters  of  liberty  made  public 
office  a  public  trust.  Before  men  could  learn  to 
be  governed  well,  they  had  to  learn  their  first 
lessons  of  social  restraint  from  whatever  rude 
authorities  were  at  hand. 

Whence,  then,  are  we  to  expect  those  inter- 
national police  to  whom  alone  is  to  be  intrusted 
the  function  of  restraining  predatory  nations, 
and  races  filled  with  the  lust  of  conquest?  Are 
they  to  descend  from  above,  clothed  in  uniform 
and  wearing  the  badge  of  their  office?  It  takes 
little  historical  sense  to  realize  that  we  must  first 
live  through  an  age  in  which   the  principle  of 


no    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

international  restraint  slowly  gains  acceptance, 
and  is  exercised  by  those  nations  who,  primarily 
moved  by  an  imminent  danger  to  themselves,  act 
also  consciously  and  expressly  in  behalf  of  the 
larger  good  of  mankind. 

Let  not  any  man  say  that  the  nation  which 
feels  itself  to  be  actuated  by  such  a  double  mo- 
tive is  insincere  and  hypocritical.  This  charge, 
if  pressed  home,  would  discredit  all  moral  purpose 
whatsoever.  Not  only  is  it  humanly  possible 
that  England,  while  saving  herself,  should  at 
the  same  time  wage  war  in  behalf  of  the  larger 
principles  of  freedom  and  international  law;  but 
all  hope  of  a  new  order  of  things  lies  in  the  exis- 
tence of  just  such  a  resolve  so  to  protect  and 
promote  one's  own  interest  as  at  the  same  time 
to  conduce  to  a  like  safety  and  well-being  in 
others. 

We  have  thus,  I  believe,  reached  an  under- 
standing of  the  general  principle  by  which  war  is 
justified.  The  righteous  war  is  that  waged  in 
behalf  of  a  higher  order  in  which  both  of  the  war- 
ring parties  and  others  of  their  rank  may  live  to- 
gether in  peace.  If  one  man  restrains  another  he 
must  ask  no  more  for  himself  than  he  concedes 
to  his  enemy.  This  modicum  which  is  consistent 
with  a  like  privilege  in  others  he  calls  his  right, 


WHAT  IS  WORTH  FIGHTING  FOR?     in 

and  the  law  eventually  defines  it  and  invents 
special  agents  for  its  protection. 

A  righteous  civil  war  will  be  one  in  winch  a  fac- 
tion is  restrained  in  behalf  of  a  national  good  which 
is  conceived  to  include  both  factions.  Whether 
correct  or  mistaken  in  their  judgment,  such  a 
purpose  undoubtedly  actuated  the  nobler  spirits 
of  both  North  and  South  in  the  American  Civil 
War.  To  the  South  it  was  a  war  for  independence, 
and  to  the  North  a  war  for  the  Union.  That  is 
to  say,  the  moral  motive  in  each  consisted  of  a 
conscious  provision  for  the  equal  good  of  the 
other.  Each,  while  most  immediately  moved 
by  its  special  interest,  believed  that  interest  to 
agree  with  the  best  interest  of  the  other.  Each 
had  its  plan  for  both,  the  South  aiming  at  a  rela- 
tion of  friendship  between  two  autonomous  neigh- 
bors, the  North  aiming  at  the  common  advantages 
of  national  coherence.  Forces  of  destruction  and 
ungovernable  passions  were  let  loose,  and  the 
most  dreadful  of  tragedies  was  enacted.  But  the 
fact  remains  that  such  higher  purposes  did  exist, 
and  gave  to  the  struggle  its  quality  of  idealism. 
Most  living  Americans,  even  those  descended 
from  the  men  of  the  South,  now  believe  that  the 
North  was  right  in  the  sense  of  being  guided  by 
a  sounder  judgment. 


ii2     THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

That  so  furious  a  conflict  should  have  divided 
men  of  equally  high  purpose,  that  even  yet  doubts 
should  exist  as  to  the  merits  of  the  dispute,  is 
profoundly  deplorable — deplorable  in  the  sense 
that  all  human  blindness  and  frailty  is  deplorable. 
But  it  was  not  to  be  avoided  by  either  scepticism 
or  inaction.  It  was  then,  as  always,  a  question 
of  controlling  events  according  to  one's  lights,  or 
being  controlled  by  them.  There  is  no  guarantee 
against  the  possibility  of  error,  and  in  judgments 
regarding  political  policy  the  margin  of  error  is 
large.  Even  if  such  a  guarantee  were  theoreti- 
cally possible,  events  would  not  wait  for  one  to 
find  it.  A  man  must  act  when  emergencies  arise 
and  circumstances  permit.  The  likelihood  of  error 
does  not  absolve  him  from  the  duty  of  making  up 
his  mind  and  acting  accordingly.  To  be  honestly 
mistaken  is  at  least  better  than  to  be  impotently 
non-committal.  For  an  honest  mistake  is  at  least 
an  experiment  in  policy  and  a  lesson  learned. 

The  forcible  restraint  of  one  individual  by 
another,  or  of  one  faction  by  another,  may  thus 
be  said  to  be  justified  when  it  is  necessary  to  the 
establishment  of  a  relationship  which  is  tolerable 
to  both.  In  an  established  civil  order  this  rela- 
tionship is  enforced  by  agencies  especially  pro- 
vided for  the  purpose.    These  agencies,  with  the 


WHAT  IS  WORTH  FIGHTING  FOR?     113 

sentiment  which  enlivens  them,  and  the  custom 
and  opinion  which  confirm  them,  signify  good  of 
a  higher  order  than  that  of  any  individual  or 
special  interest;  not  because  they  are  different 
in  quality,  but  because  they  include  all  individual 
and  special  goods  and  make  provision  for  them. 
In  the  state  we  all  live  and  are  strong,  and  if  it 
fall, 

"  O,  what  a  fall  was  there,  my  countrymen ! 
Then  I,  and  you,  and  all  of  us  fell  down." 

Now  let  us  suppose  nation  to  be  arrayed  against 
nation.  The  use  of  force  will  be  justified  so  far  as 
it  is  necessary  to  establish  a  relation  between 
nations  that  shall  at  least  provide  for  their  secu- 
rity. A  nation  which  defends  itself  against  ag- 
gression is  both  saving  itself  and  also  contending 
for  the  principle  of  nationality.  It  asks  no  more 
for  itself  than  it  concedes  to  its  opponent — the 
privilege,  namely,  of  existing  and  of  administering 
its  own  internal  affairs.  Such  a  defensive  war 
has  then  a  double  motive,  the  narrower  motive 
of  national  security  and  the  higher  motive  of 
general  international  security. 

Even  the  narrower  of  these  motives  is  a  moral 
motive  for  the  individual.  The  state  is  for  most 
men  the  highest  good  which  comes  at  all  within 


ii4    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

the  range  of  their  experience.  It  is  incomparably 
superior  to  the  good  with  which  in  the  daily  round 
of  work  and  play  they  are  mainly  preoccupied. 
It  is  often  ignored,  even  by  those  persons  of  un- 
selfish purpose  who  oppose  war  because  it  threat- 
ens to  interrupt  the  work  of  social  betterment. 
Thus  Mr.  Philip  Snowden,  M.P.,  eloquently  ex- 
horts us  to  "realize  that  a  beautiful  school  is  a 
grander  sight  than  a  battleship — a  contented  and 
prosperous  peasantry  than  great  battalions."  l 
Nobody  in  his  sober  senses  would  deny  it.  But 
let  Mr.  Snowden  and  his  friends  on  their  part 
realize  that  his  beautiful  school  and  his  prosperous 
peasantry  exist  by  the  grace  of  a  state  which 
owes  its  origin  and  its  security  to  the  vigilance 
and  energy  of  men  who  have  valued  it  enough  to 
fight  for  it. 

The  security  of  the  state  means  the  security 
of  all  the  good  things  that  exist  within  the  state. 
We  in  America  are  fond  of  being  let  alone.  The 
thought  of  war  annoys  us  because  life  is  so  full  of 
good  things  that  we  hate  to  be  interrupted.  But 
liberty  and  opportunity  are  the  fruits  of  our  na- 
tional existence,  and  if  we  love  them  we  would  do 
well  to  cherish  that  national  existence  in  which 


1  From   a  speech  delivered  before  the  House  of  Commons  on 
"Dreadnoughts  and  Dividends,"  on  March  18,  1914. 


WHAT  IS  WORTH  FIGHTING  FOR?    115 

they  are  rooted.  Fighting  men  as  a  rule  under- 
stand this  better  than  peacemakers.  The  in- 
dividual understands  it  better  on  the  field  of 
battle  than  he  does  in  the  place  where  he  earns 
his  living  or  in  the  place  where  he  goes  when  he 
is  tired.  It  has  become  the  custom  to  emphasize 
man's  savagery,  and  belittle  or  suspect  his  sen- 
timents. We  need  to  be  reminded  that  the  av- 
erage soldier  thinks  and  feels  more  generously 
than  the  average  civilian.  We  have  come  to 
speak  of  patriotism  as  though  it  meant  mere  self- 
assertion,  and  have  forgotten  that  patriots  are 
individuals  who,  while  collectively  they  may  be 
asserting  themselves  against  the  enemy,  are  in- 
dividually denying  themselves  for  their  country. 
And  it  is  of  this  self-denying  loyalty  that  they 
are  most  keenly  conscious.  "The  peace  ad- 
vocates," wrote  Mr.  E.  L.  Godkin  in  the  days  of 
Gravelotte  and  Orleans,  "are  constantly  talking 
of  the  guilt  of  killing,  while  the  combatants  only 
think,  and  will  only  think,  of  the  nobleness  of 
dying."1 

It  is  only  in  national  emergencies  that  the 
great  majority  of  men  realize  that  they  enjoy 
the  benefits  of  national  existence.    Then  only  is 

'From  the  article  on  "Peace"  in  his  Reflections  and  Comments, 
P-3- 


n6  THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

it  realized  that  civic  life  is  the  fundamental  con- 
dition of  individual  life,  and  that  all  forms  of 
economic  and  cultural  activity  are  vitally  de- 
pendent on  it.  The  generation  that  has  been 
born  in  this  country  since  the  Civil  War  has 
never  had  to  make  sacrifices  for  the  state,  and 
has  never  been  brought  to  such  a  realization. 
We  have  taken  too  much  for  granted.  Like 
spoiled  children,  we  have  assumed  that  the  staple 
good  of  national  security  was  provided  by  the 
bounty  of  nature,  and  have  irritably  clamored  for 
the  sweetmeats  of  wealth  and  higher  education. 
I  do  not  mean  to  suggest  that  any  people  should 
be  satisfied  with  the  minimum,  but  that  we 
should  clearly  understand  that  human  goods 
must  follow  in  a  certain  order,  and  that  the  super- 
structure rests  upon  the  foundation. 

But  while  the  good  of  the  state  is  greater  than 
that  of  any  individual  or  special  interest,  because 
it  contains  all  of  these  and  nourishes  them,  how 
shall  it  be  measured  against  the  good  of  that 
other  state  against  which  it  is  arrayed  in  war? 
How  is  it  possible  to  justify  patriotism  when  it 
makes  war  on  patriotism?  Is  the  state  worth 
fighting  for,  when  it  means  that  there  is  another 
state  which  one  is  fighting  against?  Again  we 
must  apply  our  principle,  that  force  is  justifiable 


WHAT  IS  WORTH  FIGHTING  FOR?     117 

only  when  used  in  the  interest  of  both  parties,  or 
in  behalf  of  some  higher  form  of  association  that 
is  inclusive  of  both.  A  just  defensive  war  must 
therefore  be  actuated  by  a  higher  principle  even 
than  that  of  patriotism.  While  it  is  waged  pri- 
marily on  behalf  of  the  great  common  good  of 
national  existence,  there  must  be  at  the  same 
time  a  due  acknowledgment  of  the  enemy's  equal 
right.  The  enemy  on  his  part  is  deserving  of 
forcible  restraint  only  in  so  far  as  through  his 
arrogance  he  prevents  or  threatens  a  relationship 
in  which  there  is  room  for  him  as  well.  War 
upon  such  an  enemy,  like  all  righteous  war,  is 
war  upon  lawlessness.  Although  its  first  effect 
is  destructive,  it  is  provident  and  constructive 
in  its  ulterior  effect. 

With  this  principle  in  mind  we  may  now  take 
a  further  step  and  justify  offensive  war,  when 
undertaken  in  the  interest  of  an  international 
system  or  league  of  humanity.  For  a  century  or 
more  this  greater  cause  has  stirred  the  imagina- 
tions of  men,  and  it  has  gradually  been  adopted 
as  a  norm  for  the  criticism  of  international  policy. 
There  is  now  no  serious  doubt  in  liberal  and  earnest 
minds  of  the  superiority  of  this  cause  to  the  nar- 
rower claims  of  nationality.  How  shall  nations  be 
so  adjusted  as  to  help  and  not  hurt  one  another  ? 


n8    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

How  shall  commerce  and  cultural  intercourse  be 
promoted,  and  dangerous  friction  and  rivalry  be 
removed?  How  shall  the  threat  of  war  be  so  far 
reduced  that  nations  can  direct  their  energies  and 
resources  internally  to  the  improvement  of  the  lot 
of  the  unprivileged  and  disqualified  majority  ?  In 
theory  the  answer  is  as  obvious  as  it  is  trite :  by 
establishing  among  nations  some  greater  unit  of 
civic  life,  some  system  of  international  law  and 
equity,  with  agencies  for  its  application  and  en- 
forcement. 

But  how  shall  we  go  forward  to  this  end? 
Not  by  abandoning  what  has  already  been 
achieved,  the  integrity  of  the  nation.  For  what  we 
seek  is  something  greater  than  nationality,  not 
something  less.  Not  by  sitting  idly  by  and  allow- 
ing events  to  roll  over  us.  Not  by  awaiting  the 
sudden  appearance  on  earth  of  some  heaven-sent 
umpire  who  shall  box  our  ears  and  set  us  about 
our  business.  This  much  seems  clear:  that  this 
end,  if  it  is  to  be  achieved  at  all,  must  be  achieved 
by  the  greatest  forces  that  man  has  now  at  his 
disposal.  Nations  and  leagues  of  nations  must 
assume  the  functions  of  international  control. 
Their  very  strength,  so  terrible  in  destruction, 
must  be  directed  to  the  larger  end  of  construc- 
tion. Just  as  the  order-loving  individual  had 
first  to  enact  the  law  for  himself  and  in  his  own 


WHAT  IS  WORTH  FIGHTING  FOR?     119 

behalf,  so  the  more  enlightened  and  more  liberal 
nations  must  take  upon  themselves  the  functions 
of  international  justice.  One  such  nation,  or  an 
alliance  of  such  nations,  will  be  its  first  rude  organ. 
Such  an  organ  will  necessarily  be  governed  in  part 
by  the  nearer  motive  of  party  interest,  but  this 
need  not  prevent  the  genuine  existence  of  the 
higher  motive  as  well.  And  just  as  the  evolution 
of  democracy  means  the  gradual  purification  of 
the  governmental  motive,  the  purging  of  it  from 
admixture  with  personal,  dynastic  and  class  in- 
terests, so  we  may  expect  to  witness  on  the  larger 
scale  the  gradual  evolution  of  some  similarly  dis- 
interested agency  that  shall  represent  the  good 
of  all  mankind. 

It  is  commonly  and  truly  said  that  the  present 
war  is  the  most  terrible  in  history.  We  have, 
I  believe,  been  too  quick  to  see  in  this  a  reason 
for  despair.  Wars  become  terrible  in  proportion 
to  the  strength  of  the  warring  parties,  in  num- 
bers, organization  and  science.  But  what  of  this 
strength?  Shall  we  count  it  no  achievement? 
A  war  between  Italy  and  Austria  is  more  terrible 
than  a  war  between  Venice  and  Genoa,  but  only 
because  Venice  and  Genoa  have  learned  to  live 
in  peace  and  have  achieved  the  strength  of  union 
and  co-operation.  We  are  witnessing  to-day,  not 
a  mere  war  between  nations,  but  the  more  awful 


120    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

collision  between  alliances  of  nations.  The  horror 
of  the  catastrophe  should  not  blind  us  to  the 
fact  that  France  and  England,  for  example,  have 
learned  that  each  has  more  to  gain  from  the  oth- 
er's prosperity  than  from  its  decay,  and  that  their 
differences  are  negligible  when  compared  with 
their  common  interests.  Together  they  possess 
strength  of  a  higher  order,  terrible  in  war,  but 
proportionally  beneficent  in  peace.  The  evolution 
of  human  solidarity  and  organization  has  brought 
us  to  the  stage  of  great  international  alliances. 

It  is  thus  in  keeping  with  the  record  of  human 
progress  that  the  last  war  should  be  the  worst — 
and  the  worst  the  last.  For  the  only  human  force 
more  terrible  than  a  league  of  some  nations  is 
the  league  of  all  nations,  the  league  of  man.  The 
same  motive  that  has  led  to  the  one  will  lead  to 
the  other — the  desire,  namely,  to  avoid  the  loss 
and  weakness  of  conflict,  and  to  attain  the  in- 
comparable advantages  of  co-operative  life.  This 
last  alliance  will  then  have  no  human  adversary 
left,  but  may  devote  its  supreme  power  to  perfect- 
ing the  lot  of  the  individual,  and  scotching  the 
devil  of  reaction. 

The  goods  that  are  worth  fighting  for  are  first 
of  all  existent  goods,  embodied  in  the  life  of  man. 


WHAT  IS  WORTH  FIGHTING  FOR?     121 

Such  goods  are  created  by  physical  forces,  may 
be  destroyed  by  physical  forces,  and  may  require 
to  be  defended  by  physical  forces.  They  are 
worth  fighting  for  when  they  are  greater  goods 
than  those  which  have  to  be  fought  against. 
Civil  law  is  worth  fighting  for,  against  the  law- 
less individual.  National  integrity  is  worth  fight- 
ing for,  against  disruptive  factions  or  unscrupulous 
rivals.  The  general  good  of  mankind  is  worth 
fighting  for,  against  the  narrower  purpose  of  na- 
tional aggrandizement.  These  greater  goods  are 
worth  fighting  for;  nothing  is  really  worth  fight- 
ing against.  It  therefore  behooves  every  high- 
spirited  individual  or  nation  to  be  both  strong 
and  purposeful.  Strength  without  high  purpose 
is  soulless  and  brutal;  purpose  without  strength 
is  unreal  and  impotent. 

We  in  America  cannot,  it  is  true,  afford  to 
build  armies  and  navies  from  sheer  bravado. 
Our  strength  must  be  consecrated  to  the  best 
that  the  most  enlightened  reason  and  the  most 
sensitive  conscience  can  discern.  But,  on  the 
other  hand,  we  cannot  afford  to  cherish  any 
ideal  whatsoever  unless  at  the  same  time  we  are 
willing  to  put  forth  the  effort  that  is  commensurate 
with  its  realization.  The  corrective  of  militarism 
is  not  complacency  and  neglect,  but  a  humane 


122    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

purpose;  and  the  corrective  of  pacifism  is  not  a 
lapse  into  barbarism,  but  the  acquiring  of  suffi- 
cient might  and  resolution  to  do  the  work  which 
a  humane  purpose  requires. 


VII 

NON-RESISTANCE    AND    THE    PRESENT 
WAR 

MR.  BERTRAND  RUSSELL,  of  Trinity 
College,  Cambridge,  is  probably  the  most 
eminent  of  the  small  group  of  Englishmen  who 
have  openly  advocated  non-resistance  as  a  pres- 
ent policy.  His  recent  articles,  published  in  this 
country,  are  admirable  for  their  detachment  and 
humanity;  they  might  well  serve  as  a  model  for 
the  philosophical  discussion  of  the  great  issues 
that  are  now  hanging  in  the  balance.  And  since 
non-resistance  is  not  likely  to  find  a  more  able 
protagonist  than  Mr.  Russell,  I  have  selected 
one  of  his  articles,  entitled  "The  Ethics  of  War,"1 
as  an  instance  by  which  to  judge  the  merits  of 
that  principle. 

Although  I  disagree  with  almost  every  specific 
opinion  which  this  article  contains,  let  me  first 
express  my  agreement  with  the  general  and  un- 
derlying opinion  that  "the  way  of  mercy  is  the 
way  of  happiness  for  all."  This  opinion  is  abun- 
dantly verified  by  human  experience,  past  and 

1  International  Journal  of  Ethics,  January,  1915. 
123 


I24    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

present,  and  is  rapidly  coming  to  be  a  common 
premise  from  which  all  philosophically  minded 
persons  argue.  War  in  itself  is  an  unmitigated 
calamity.  It  is  not  to  be  praised,  but  denounced; 
it  is  not  even  to  be  tolerated  and  idealized  as  a 
natural  necessity,  but  is  rather  to  be  hunted  to 
its  sources  and  eradicated  like  a  curable  dis- 
order. Granting  this,  what  is  the  reasonable 
attitude  toward  the  present  war  and  toward  its 
principal  actors?  It  is  here  that  Mr.  Russell 
seems  to  me  to  be  mistaken  in  his  facts  and  in 
his  inferences. 

There  is  in  this  country  and  at  least  to  some 
extent  among  the  Allied  Powers,  a  disposition 
to  take  international  treaties  and  conventions 
seriously,  and  to  condemn  as  "lawless"  a  nation 
that  violates  them.  Mr.  Russell  regards  this 
disposition  as  groundless  because  treaties  are  in 
practise  "only  observed  when  it  is  convenient 
to  do  so."  They  lack  the  sanction  which  en- 
forces law,  and  serve  only  "to  afford  the  sort  of 
pretext  which  is  considered  respectable  for  en- 
gaging in  war  with  another  Power."  Now  I  am 
willing  to  assume  for  the  sake  of  the  argument 
the  doubtful  thesis  that  nations  do  in  practise 
universally  disregard  treaties  at  the  dictation  of 
selfish   expediency.     There   remains   the   impor- 


NON-RESISTANCE  AND  THE  WAR    125 

tant  fact,  conceded  by  Mr.  Russell,  that  such 
action  is  judged  to  be  disreputable  and  "unscru- 
pulous." How  is  that  judgment,  which  already 
impels  governments  to  seek  a  "pretext,"  to  be 
so  strengthened  as  to  act  as  a  deterrent? 

The  analogy  of  law,  to  which  the  pacifist  ap- 
peals, would  suggest  a  resort  to  force.  But  the  en- 
forcement of  international  law  predicates  an  inter- 
national organization  resolved  to  substitute  arbi- 
tration for  war.  How  is  such  an  international 
organization  to  be  brought  about?  Only,  it 
would  appear,  by  the  cultivation  of  opinion  and 
habit.  In  short,  before  the  present  sentiment 
for  the  observance  of  international  law  shall  be 
convertible  into  a  sanction,  it  must  be  strengthened 
and  attain  to  something  like  unanimity.  To  this 
end  it  is  important  that  no  breach  of  such  con- 
ventions as  are  already  in  existence  should  be 
condoned.  It  is  not  by  a  passive  admission  of 
past  and  present  lawlessness,  but  by  a  counsel 
of  perfection  and  a  stern  condemnation  of  the 
common  fault,  that  usage  is  to  be  improved. 
A  cynical  violation  of  treaties  should  to-day  be 
denounced  with  a  severity  exceeding  any  judg- 
ment in  the  past,  so  that  to-morrow  this  thing 
may  become  so  damnable  that  no  government 
shall  dare  to  be  found  guilty. 


126    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

The  disputes  of  private  citizens  are  not  com- 
monly settled,  as  Mr.  Russell  asserts,  "by  the 
force  of  the  police, "  but  by  legal  process  resting 
on  habit  and  intelligence.  The  police  do  not 
so  much  enforce  law  as  prevent  its  occasional 
infraction.  The  great  majority  of  persons,  and 
all  persons  for  the  greater  part  of  their  lives,  are 
"law-abiding."1  If  international  law  is  to  be 
similarly  sanctioned,  its  observance  must  like- 
wise rest  on  habit  and  intelligence.  Nations 
must  become  generally  law-abiding,  before 
any  international  police  can  undertake  to  con- 
strain law-breaking  nations.  "If  the  facts  were 
understood,"  says  Mr.  Russell,  "wars  amongst 
civilized  nations  would  cease,  owing  to  their 
inherent  absurdity."  How  is  such  a  general 
understanding  to  be  brought  about,  and  how 
is  the  reasonable  practise  to  become  the  normal 
practise?  Only,  it  seems  to  me,  by  an  unflag- 
ging effort  to  promote  every  instrument,  such  as 
international  law,  treaties,  courts  of  arbitration, 

1  Mr.  Russell,  on  the  other  hand,  evidently  agrees  with  the  view 
of  Mr.  Strachey  as  quoted  by  Mr.  Graham  Wallas:  "Why  do  men 
have  recourse  to  a  Court  of  Law  in  private  quarrels  .  .  .  ?  Be- 
cause they  are  forced  to  do  so  and  are  allowed  to  use  no  other  ar- 
bitrament." To  this  Mr.  Wallas  replies:  "But,  as  a  matter  of 
historical  fact,  the  irresistible  force  by  which  men  are  now  com- 
pelled to  resort  to  the  law-courts  in  their  private  quarrels  is  the 
result  of  custom  arising  from  thousands  of  free  decisions  to  do  so." 
— The  Great  Society,  p.  169. 


NON-RESISTANCE  AND  THE  WAR     127 

that  provides  a  substitute  for  the  absurdity  of 
war,  and  by  the  emphatic  and  unambiguous 
censure  of  every  act  that  destroys  these  instru- 
mentalities or  renders  them  ineffective. 

To  many  minds  it  doubtless  seems  paradoxical 
to  war  for  the  sake  of  peace.  It  is  precisely  as 
paradoxical,  no  more  and  no  less,  as  it  is  to  labor 
for  the  sake  of  rest,  or  to  make  sacrifices  in  order 
that  one  may  live  more  abundantly.  Indeed  I 
am  inclined  to  go  so  far  as  to  say  that  the  one 
cause  for  which  one  may  properly  make  war  is 
the  cause  of  peace.  To  be  willing  to  fight  for  a 
thing  simply  means  to  be  unwilling  to  give  it 
up,  however  seriously  it  may  be  threatened. 
The  one  thing  that  is  certainly  worth  the  price 
of  war  is  peace.  This  is  simply  because  war 
means  the  destruction,  and  peace  the  security, 
of  all  human  values. 

The  only  justification  of  destruction  is  the  hope 
of  safety  and  preservation.  This  holds,  whatever 
be  one's  values,  provided  only  that  they  be  human 
and  earthly  values.  There  is  only  one  philosophy 
of  non-resistance  that  can  be  justified,  and  that  is 
other-worldliness.  If  no  value  attaches  to  the 
things  of  this  world,  then  there  is  no  motive  for 
resistance;  although  in  that  case  it  is  equally  in- 
different whether  one  resists  or  not,   since  the 


128    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

enemy's  life  is  worth  no  more  than  one's  own. 
The  moment  any  human  achievement  of  body, 
mind  or  character  is  taken  to  be  good,  then  war 
for  its  preservation  is  in  principle  justified.  Even 
though  humility  be  the  supreme  good,  then  one 
should  resist  the  aggression  of  an  enemy  who 
threatens  to  destroy  one's  life  before  one  has 
cultivated  that  virtue,  or  proposes  after  the  ex- 
termination of  the  humble  to  spread  a  propaganda 
of  pride. 

But  Mr.  Russell  bases  his  claims  for  non-re- 
sistance on  no  such  philosophy  of  renunciation. 
It  is  evident  that  he  holds  life,  happiness,  intel- 
lectual contemplation,  self-government,  and  many 
other  things  to  be  good.  He  suggests  nothing 
better  worth  struggling  for  than  these  characteris- 
tic benefits  of  the  secular  civilized  life.  He  would 
propose  to  secure  these  things  by  peaceful  means, 
but  he  must,  of  course,  add,  "if  possible."  What, 
then,  if  some  enemy  determines  to  destroy  these 
things,  and  begins  to  destroy  them?  Suppose 
that  enemy  to  be  prompted  by  the  motive  of 
destruction.  There  are  then  only  two  alterna- 
tives: To  yield,  with  the  expectation  that  these 
good  things  will  be  destroyed,  or  to  resist  in  the 
hope  that  they  may  be  preserved,  albeit  at  great 
cost  and  in  diminished  measure.     In  the  former 


NON-RESISTANCE  AND  THE  WAR     129 

case  one's  action  cannot  be  justified  at  all  be- 
cause one  can  expect  no  good  from  it.  One  can- 
not even  hope  to  avoid  evil,  because  it  may  be 
the  determination  of  the  enemy  to  perpetrate 
that  which  one  holds  to  be  evil.  The  latter  course 
is  then  the  only  course  that  will  be  dictated  by 
love  of  good. 

To  try  out  this  principle  of  non-resistance  one 
must  imagine  the  greatest  conceivable  good  to 
be  attacked  with  a  deliberate  intent  to  destroy 
it;  or  the  greatest  conceivable  evil  to  be  threat- 
ened with  a  deliberate  and  implacable  intent 
to  perpetrate  it.  One  must  suppose  the  suc- 
cess of  the  enemy  to  be  probable  if  he  is 
not  resisted,  and  doubtful  or  capable  of  being 
retarded,  if  he  is  resisted.  To  test  the  principle 
rigorously  one  should  conceive  the  good  or  evil 
at  stake  in  such  terms  as  to  arouse  one's  deepest 
sentiments.  It  is  life,  or  character,  or  social 
welfare,  or  the  soul's  salvation  that  is  attacked; 
it  is  tyranny,  or  rape,  or  child-murder,  or  hell- 
fire  that  is  threatened.  What,  then,  shall  one 
do?  To  yield,  not  to  resist  to  the  utmost,  is  to 
abandon  the  best  or  permit  the  worst.  There  is 
by  definition  no  higher  ground,  either  the  pro- 
motion of  good  or  the  avoidance  of  evil,  on  which 
such  a  course  may  be  justified.    It  is  true  that  in 


130    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

any  given  case  one's  judgment  may  be  in  error. 
But  this  proves  only  that  one  should  be  sure 
that  one's  fears  are  well  grounded,  that  it  is  a 
genuine  good  or  evil  that  is  at  stake,  and  that 
one's  enemy  is  really  one's  enemy.  This  argues 
for  the  need  of  light.  But  it  does  not  in  the  least 
argue  against  the  principle  of  defensive  warfare. 
So  much  for  the  principle.  Let  us  consider 
the  author's  applications.  "The  Duchy  of  Luxem- 
burg, which  was  not  in  a  position  to  offer  resis- 
tance, has  escaped  the  fate  of  the  other  regions 
occupied  by  hostile  troops."1  I  am  willing  to 
waive  the  doubtful  considerations  of  "honor" 
and  "prestige,"  and  stake  the  argument  alto- 
gether on  other  considerations.  First,  Luxem- 
burg through  non-resistance  has  decreased  the 
respect  for  the  independence  of  small  nations  in 
general,  and  for  her  own  independence  in  partic- 
ular. Secondly,  though  she  may  have  escaped 
the  fate  of  the  other  regions  occupied  by  hostile 

1  Op.  cil.,  p.  139.  Mr.  Russell  does  not  present  evidence  that 
this  is  the  case.  The  New  York  Times  for  February  23,  1915,  pub- 
lished the  following  extract  from  a  letter  written  from  Luxemburg: 
"I  do  not  believe  that  the  Belgians  can  hate  the  Germans  as  strongly 
as  the  people  of  this  little  duchy.  Their  country  is  not  laid  low  by 
cannon-fire,  neither  were  they  butchered  by  the  Germans,  and  yet 
they  are  not  better  off  than  the  inhabitants  of  Belgium.  Every 
able-bodied  citizen  is  being  compelled  to  serve  the  German  army 
in  one  or  other  form.  .  .  .  The  laboring  classes  have  lost  their 
occupations,  while  the  well-to-do  cannot  point  to  anything  and 
say,  'This  is  mine.'  " 


NON-RESISTANCE  AND  THE  WAR     131 

troops  thus  far,  it  is  as  well  to  remember  that  the 
war  is  not  yet  over.  If  the  tide  turns,  the  in- 
habitants of  this  duchy  may  yet  be  visited  with 
all  the  horrors  of  war,  with  no  friend  on  either 
side,  and  incapable  of  protecting  themselves. 
Thirdly,  if  Germany  wins,  Luxemburg  becomes, 
as  she  is  virtually  now,  a  German  dependency. 
If  Germany  loses,  Luxemburg  has  small  claim 
for  the  recognition  of  her  sovereignty  even  from 
those  who  are  in  this  war  the  champions  of  the 
smaller  states,  on  the  principle  that  those  de- 
serve political  autonomy  who  care  enough  for 
it  to  defend  it.  Finally,  Luxemburg  does  not 
in  any  case  offer  an  analogy  from  which  to  argue 
for  the  non-resistance  of  Belgium  or  England, 
because  she  "was  not  in  a  position  to  offer  re- 
sistance," and  therefore  was  under  no  such 
recognized  obligation  to  defend  her  neutrality 
as  was  the  case  of  Belgium. 

But  Mr.  Russell  is  evidently  willing  to  con- 
template, as  preferable  to  warlike  resistance, 
even  loss  of  political  independence.  He  evidently 
believes  that  what  is  valuable  in  national  life 
may  be  preserved  even  though  one  put  oneself 
utterly  at  the  disposal  of  the  enemy.  Here  again 
I  prefer  to  waive  the  more  doubtful  matters. 
Whether  humiliating  submission   to   alien  arro- 


132    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

gance,  accompanied  by  a  vivid  memory  of  lost 
freedom,  would  be  a  tolerable  form  of  existence, 
I  will  not  attempt  to  argue — I  should  fear  that  I 
might  lapse  into  an  expression  of  feeling.  Most 
men  would,  I  think,  prefer  to  die;  and  they  would 
be  entitled  to  the  choice.  But  Mr.  Russell  pro- 
poses somehow  to  combine  with  non-resistance 
"English  civilization,  the  English  language,  Eng- 
lish manufactures,"  and  English  constitutionalism 
or  democracy;  all  this,  though  the  English  navy 
were  sunk  and  London  occupied  by  the  Prussians ! 
Now  what  can  Mr.  Russell  mean?  He  knows 
better  than  I  that  not  only  manufactures,  but 
bare  existence  in  England  depends  on  commerce. 
They  depend  not  only  on  the  actual  freedom  of 
the  sea,  but  on  the  guarantee  of  that  freedom. 
He  knows  that  if  the  Prussians  occupied  London 
and  it  suited  their  purpose  they  could  undertake 
the  suppression  of  the  English  language  as  they 
have  undertaken  the  suppression  of  the  Polish 
language.  He  knows  that,  should  the  German 
monarchy  fear  the  effect  of  the  example  of  Eng- 
lish democracy,  it  would  have  a  strong  motive 
for  emulating  the  policy  of  the  "Holy  Alliance" 
of  1815.  Having  the  motive,  there  is  on  the 
principle  of  non-resistance  not  the  least  reason 
why  Germany  should  not  accomplish  these  things. 


NON-RESISTANCE  AND  THE  WAR     133 

Mr.  Russell  thinks  that  England  may  neverthe- 
less be  saved  from  oppression  by  "public  opinion 
in  Germany,"  which  is  somehow  suddenly  to  be 
inspired  with  magnanimity  by  the  spectacle  of 
the  voluntary  submission  of  its  rival.  Germany's 
treatment  of  a  non-resistant  China  would  afford 
small  encouragement  for  this  desperate  hope, 
even  were  it  not  a  general  fact  that  arrogance 
is  only  inflated  and  encouraged  by  submission. 
History  abounds  in  examples  of  this.  One  need 
only  cite  the  habitual  insolence  of  the  European 
races  toward  non-resistant  or  obsequious  Jews. 

The  last  remaining  vestige  of  hope  would  then 
be  based  on  Mr.  Russell's  contention  that  Eng- 
land herself  has  not  found  it  possible  to  refuse 
self-government  to  her  colonies.  But  England 
has  found  it  necessary  or  politic  to  concede  self- 
government  to  her  colonies  because  they  were 
English  colonies,  composed  of  high-spirited  men 
of  English  blood  who  could  be  counted  upon 
sooner  or  later  to  assert  their  independence,  and 
to  make  it  respected  if  necessary  by  force.  Eng- 
land has  not  found  it  necessary  to  grant  self- 
government  to  conquered  races.  An  England 
occupied  by  Prussians  would  not  be  a  colony, 
but  a  conquered  race.  And  by  the  express  terms 
of  a  philosophy  of  non-resistance  such  an  England 


134    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

would  have  lost  its  high  spirit,  and  would  have 
renounced  forever  any  ultimate  appeal  to  force. 
Like  the  American  neutral,  Mr.  Russell  holds 
"  that  no  single  one  of  the  combatants  is  justified 
in  the  present  war."  What  he  means  is  not 
perfectly  clear.  That  no  nation  whatsoever  has 
clean  hands  and  an  unblemished  record  is  doubt- 
less true.  But  at  least  two  of  the  warring  nations, 
Servia  and  Belgium,  were  wantonly  attacked. 
It  is  now  generally  admitted  that  Austria's  ulti- 
matum to  Servia  was  intended  to  provoke  war 
in  order  that  Servia  might  be  "chastised."  Bel- 
gium was  deliberately  sacrificed  to  Germany's 
military  convenience.  So  far  as  these  nations 
are  concerned,  there  was  no  alternative  to  war 
save  non-resistance.  Both  of  these  nations  be- 
long to  the  side  of  the  Allies.  The  other  allied 
nations  were  at  least  in  part  moved  by  a  desire 
to  save  these  two  smaller  nations  from  subjec- 
tion. They  may  be  said,  therefore,  to  be  fighting 
for  the  principle  of  national  security,  and  for  the 
principle  of  adjudicating  international  disputes 
by  conference,  agreement  and  treaty.  They  were 
or  are  now  doubtless  actuated  by  other  and 
less  commendable  motives.  But  that  does  not 
in  the  least  annul  their  justification  on  the  first 
ground.  For  a  man  may  rightly  save  a  weak 
neighbor  from  assault,  even  though  the  assailant 


NON-RESISTANCE  AND  THE  WAR     135 

be  one's  private  enemy,  and  even  though  his 
punishment  afford  one  private  satisfaction  or 
advantage. 

Even  were  one  to  grant  that  Russia  and  France 
should  have  permitted  the  subjection  of  Servia 
by  Austria,  and  that  England  should  have  per- 
mitted the  subjection  of  Belgium  by  Germany, 
there  remains  an  independent  and  much  less 
debatable  question.  Which  of  the  warring  parties 
is  most  deserving  of  censure,  and  whose  victory 
is  more  desirable  ?  In  other  words,  whom  should 
one's  moral  judgment  most  severely  condemn, 
and  what  outcome  would  be  most  conducive 
to  the  general  good?  This  is  a  question  which 
no  lover  of  mankind,  however  detached  and  dis- 
passionate, can  ignore.  The  present  war  is  an 
event  of  prodigious  human  significance,  and  its 
consequences  will  be  lasting  and  far-reaching. 
If  there  be  any  just  decision  or  verdict  in  these 
matters,  it  is  important  to  reach  it,  lest  one  lapse 
into  helpless  and  confused  passivity,  and  play 
no  part  now  that  the  hour  of  trial  has  come. 
There  is  a  wide-spread  conviction  among  those 
who  have  observed  the  war  at  some  distance 
from  the  heat  of  action  that  Germany  and  Aus- 
tria are  chiefly  culpable  and  that  their  defeat  is 
desirable.  It  seems  probable,  more  from  what 
Mr.  Russell  has  omitted  to  say  than  from  what 


136    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

he  has  said,  that  he  does  not  share  that  convic- 
tion. His  independence  and  honesty  of  opinion 
are  to  be  respected.  But  I  believe  his  opinion 
to  be  mistaken. 

Mr.  Russell  himself  acknowledges  that  "democ- 
racy in  the  western  nations  would  suffer  from  the 
victory  of  Germany."  He  protests,  however,  that 
democracy  can  never  be  "imposed"  on  Germany; 
overlooking  the  fact  that  a  decline  of  Prussian 
military  prestige  would  not  only  remove  a  threat 
that  seriously  retards  the  natural  growth  of 
democracy  in  England  and  France,  but  might 
put  new  heart  into  the  millions  of  German  Social- 
Democrats  who  (contrary  to  Mr.  Russell's  as- 
sertion) do  not  enjoy  "the  form  of  government 
which  they  desire." 

Nothing  that  has  developed  during  the  last 
year  of  the  war,  and  nothing  that  Mr.  Russell  has 
said,  has  tended  to  disprove  the  verdict  that 
Germany  and  Austria  are  the  principal  offenders 
on  whom  may  justly  be  visited  whatever  penalty 
be  appropriate  to  the  crime  of  war.  The  para- 
mount fact  is  that  one  of  these  Powers,  abetted 
by  the  other,  first  made  war.  Germany,  at  least 
thus  far,  has  practised  war  least  humanely,  has 
done  least  to  mitigate  its  horrors,  and  has  shown 
least  respect  for  the  conventions  which  have  been 


NON-RESISTANCE  AND  THE  WAR     137 

intended  to  regulate  and  limit  war.  The  domi- 
nant party  in  Germany,  the  Prussian  military 
caste,  most  perfectly  embodies  the  aggrandizing 
and  arrogant  spirit  of  aggressive  war,  and  con- 
stitutes the  greatest  obstacle  in  the  way  of  the 
achievement  of  future  and  perpetual  peace. 

If  these  judgments  be  well  founded  it  is  essential 
that  they  should  be  made  and  that  they  should 
not  readily  be  forgotten.  They  may  only  too 
easily  be  confused  by  an  overscrupulous  regard 
for  the  guilt  of  the  less  guilty.  There  is  a  curious 
inversion  of  emphasis  in  Mr.  Russell's  article. 
It  is  not  impossible  that  a  distrust  of  vulgar 
opinion  should  lead  a  nicely  analytical  and  cau- 
tiously reflective  mind  to  exaggerate  whatever 
is  contrary  to  the  general  prejudice.  It  may 
even  lead  one  to  dwell  at  length  upon  the  im- 
moderate indignation  of  the  victim,  while  the 
fury  of  the  assailant  rages  unrebuked.  It  is 
doubtless  the  principal  task  of  the  philosopher 
to  offset  the  bias  of  the  multitude  and  resist  the 
current  that  sweeps  by  him.  But  it  sometimes 
happens  that  the  common  opinion  is  correct, 
and  that  even  such  blind  passions  as  patriotism 
and  righteous  indignation  will  be  found  working 
for  the  general  good. 


VIII 

WHO  IS  RESPONSIBLE? 

AT  a  time  like  the  present  there  is  no  maxim 
t  in  the  whole  store  of  moral  truisms  that  is 
not  apt.  For  war  appears  to  be  nothing  less 
than  a  demoralizing  of  man,  a  fit  of  madness  in 
which  riotously,  even  exultingly,  he  throws  away 
all  the  advantage  he  has  laboriously  won  against 
the  inertia  and  drag  of  nature.  As  though  seized 
with  a  sort  of  morbid  exhibitionism,  he  denudes 
himself  of  the  garment  of  civilization  and  shame- 
lessly exposes  what  he  once  thought  bestial  and 
degraded.  Deceiving  himself  by  narrow  and  per- 
verted loyalties,  and  confirmed  by  the  unison  of 
collective  passion,  he  launches  himself  upon  a 
course  of  violence,  deceit,  robbery,  arson,  murder, 
profligacy,  cruelty,  lawlessness  and  impiety — so 
that  war  seems  scarcely  other  than  a  name  for 
the  aggregate  of  all  wicked  things. 

This  is  incontestable.     But  save  as  a  purge  for 
the  writer  himself  there  is  little  virtue  in  saying 

it,  because  it  needs  so  little  arguing,  and  because, 

138 


WHO  IS  RESPONSIBLE?  139 

as  with  most  sermonizing,  the  sinners  are  not  in 
church.  The  cure  of  the  present  war  is  not  to  be 
effected  by  gentle  remonstrance.  Then  why  all 
this  talk  ?  Why  does  every  man  burn  to  say  some- 
thing, if  only  to  his  neighbor  over  the  back  fence  ? 
It  is  because  we  have  reflected  that  what  has 
happened  once  may  happen  again,  and  that  the 
horrid  menace  of  war  must  be  taken  to  heart. 
Mankind  is  liable  and  even  predisposed  to  con- 
tract the  disease  and  perish  of  it.  We  are  rightly 
stirred  to  seek  measures  of  prevention;  not  for 
our  own  selves  merely,  but  because  civilization 
itself  is  worth  so  little  while  it  is  threatened  with 
sudden  and  ruinous  depreciation.  If  any  cause  of 
war  can  be  unmistakably  identified  and  labelled 
"Danger!"  then  something,  be  it  ever  so  little, 
has  been  contributed  to  the  safety  of  mankind. 
To  know  a  cause  prepares  the  way  for  its  con- 
trol, and  to  control  the  cause  is  to  control  the 
effect. 

But  first  of  all  it  is  necessary  to  believe  and  to 
believe  resolutely  and  unyieldingly  that  war  has 
causes  which  may  be  identified  and  controlled. 
To  doubt  this  is  as  though  medical  science  should 
disbelieve  in  the  possibility  of  curing  disease. 
Whoever  says  that  the  present  war  or  any  war 
is  inevitable,  should  be  rebuked  as  the  unwitting 


140    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

accomplice  of  the  powers  of  darkness.  For  in 
weakening  the  intent  and  power  to  control  the 
disaster  he  is  helping  to  bring  it  about.  He  who 
regards  any  event  as  inevitable  is  himself  one  of 
its  causes.  This  is  the  obvious  but  neglected 
truth  that  I  want  here  to  proclaim.  War  does 
not  happen  to  mankind,  but  is  committed  by  man- 
kind. It  is  as  much  within  his  control  as  are  any 
of  his  works,  and  to  fall  away  from  this  belief  into 
a  weak  and  hopeless  acquiescence,  is  to  lose  that 
high  purpose  from  which  all  great  human  achieve- 
ments must  spring. 

By  a  curious  perversion  of  an  obscure  half- 
truth  common  sense  has  come  to  regard  the 
psychological,  or  the  "merely"  psychological,  as 
unreal.  Christian  Science  relies  upon  this  vulgar 
prejudice  to  convince  people  that  to  identify 
disease  with  error  is  the  same  as  to  deny  it  alto- 
gether. The  worldly  wise  have  had  a  good  deal 
of  fun  over  President  Wilson's  declaration  that 
the  ante-bellum  business  depression  was  largely 
psychological.  Assuming  that  this  was  the  same 
as  to  say  that  there  wasn't  any  business  depres- 
sion, the  rustic  or  curbstone  wit  had  only  to 
point  to  some  recent  failure,  and  loutish  laughter 
rang  loud  at  poor  Mr.  Wilson's  expense.  So  one 
hesitates  to  say  that  war  is  largely  psychological, 


WHO  IS  RESPONSIBLE?  141 

lest  some  keen  observer  point  to  the  record  of 
death  and  destruction,  and  ask  triumphantly: 
"Are  these,  too,  psychological?" 

And  yet  it  is  instantly  evident  that  everything 
whatsoever  with  which  man  has  to  do  is  in  so 
far  a  matter  of  human  nature,  that  is  to  say,  of 
psychology.  I  am  assuming  that  we  are  talking 
not  of  events  like  the  return  of  a  comet,  but  of 
events  like  wars  in  which  human  agency  is  in- 
volved. Wars  are  due  not  to  the  operation  of 
mechanical  laws  of  the  astronomical  sort,  but  to 
the  passions,  purposes,  decisions  and  volitions 
of  men.  They  are  due,  in  short,  to  the  human 
mind,  as  this  operates  individually  and  collec- 
tively. 

That  there  are  enormous  differences  in  the 
causal  power  exerted  by  different  minds,  de- 
pending on  their  place  of  vantage  in  the  social 
system,  is,  of  course,  true.  Most  men  merely 
echo  the  prevailing  opinion  or  swell  the  general 
tide  of  passion.  Even  so,  such  men  in  the  aggre- 
gate give  to  opinion  its  tendency  to  prevail,  and 
to  passion  its  tidal  and  overwhelming  power. 
But  the  contribution  of  a  single  member  of  the 
mass  is  not  comparable  with  that  of  an  individual 
who  occupies  a  place  of  prominence  or  authority. 
Such  a  mind  operates  at  a  source,  coloring  all  that 


i42    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

springs  from  it,  or  at  a  crucial  point  where  every 
slight  deflection  is  enormously  magnified  in  the 
consequence.  From  such  minds  come  the  models 
of  opinion,  the  first  breaks  in  the  self-control  that 
dams  the  flood  of  passion,  or  the  decisions  and 
acts  which  suddenly  create  new  situations  and 
upset  the  delicate  equilibrium  of  peace.  The 
causes  of  any  war  are  far  too  complex  for  exhaus- 
tive analysis.  The  historians  have  not  yet  satis- 
factorily explained  the  first  war,  and  we  shall 
not  five  to  see  the  explanation  of  this  last.  But 
so  much  is  certain,  that  wars  are  due  to  the 
forces  which  animate  and  govern  the  human 
mind. 

Now  to  return  to  our  truism,  that  to  expect 
war  is  to  be  a  contributory  cause  of  it.  To  ex- 
pect a  thing  is  in  a  way  to  dispose  one's  mind  to 
it;  and  if  it  be  the  sort  of  thing,  like  war,  that  is 
a  product  of  the  mind,  it  will  therefore  be  affected 
— if  not  directly  and  considerably,  then  at  least 
indirectly  and  slightly.  Only  be  it  remembered 
that  causes  that  severally  are  slight  may  cumu- 
latively be  decisive.  To  expect  a  thing  is  usually 
to  relax  or  abandon  efforts  to  prevent  it.  The 
expectation  of  failure  weakens  the  effort  to  suc- 
ceed, and  in  so  far  makes  way  for  failure.  Simi- 
larly, to  expect  a  war  inclines  one  to  be  half- 


WHO  IS  RESPONSIBLE?  143 

hearted  or  to  lose  heart  altogether  in  one's  efforts 
to  keep  the  peace. 

In  the  case  of  war  a  peculiar  social  phenomenon 
aggravates  this  negative  effect  of  unbelief,  and 
exerts  a  positive  influence  as  well.  To  disbelieve 
in  the  friendly  intentions  of  another,  to  regard 
him  as  an  enemy,  is  to  encourage  in  him  what- 
ever incipient  hostility  his  breast  may  harbor. 
The  hostility  thus  evoked  will  seem  to  justify 
the  very  suspicion  that  evoked  it.  This  suspicion, 
in  turn,  now  renewed  and  intensified,  wilt  react 
again  upon  its  object  until,  passion  thus  feeding 
on  itself,  what  was  at  the  outset  only  a  passing 
attitude  of  faint  distrust  has  become  a  violent 
and  deep-rooted  hate.  Every  one  has  witnessed 
this  phenomenon  in  spitting  cats  and  growling 
dogs,  or  in  the  growth  of  his  own  personal  en- 
mities. To  understand  the  part  such  causes 
play  in  war  one  has  only  to  multiply  these  familiar 
effects  by  the  factors  of  contagion  and  social  in- 
tensification. 

But  expectation  involves  more  than  lapse  of 
prevention.  Ordinarily  it  involves  something 
more  positive  still,  that  we  call  "preparation  for 
the  inevitable."  And  to  prepare  for  a  thing  in 
that  spirit  is,  of  course,  to  facilitate  it.  If  you  are 
resigned  to  an  event,  then  you  have  created  con- 


144    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

ditions  favorable  to  its  occurrence.  To  be  ready 
for  war  means  that  any  new  event  tending  to  war 
will  find  other  necessary  factors  already  present, 
so  that  what  is  in  itself  a  cause  of  slight  weight 
may  be  a  last  straw.  The  materials,  the  organi- 
zation, the  policies,  even  the  explanations  and 
apologies  are  at  hand.  The  normal  inhibitions 
against  violence  are  largely  removed.  To  be 
ready  for  war  is  to  be,  as  we  say,  "used  to  the 
idea."  There  are  a  thousand  ways  in  which  prep- 
aration for  war,  itself  the  consequence  of  expect- 
ing it,  may  in  turn  literally  pave  the  way  for  it, 
or  pass  over  by  almost  insensible  gradations  into 
the  act  of  war  itself. 

The  question  of  preparedness  is  thus,  like  most 
questions  of  policy,  less  simple  than  immediately 
appears.  Since  war  may  always  be  forced  by  the 
threat  of  something  worse,  prudence  and  a  decent 
sense  of  responsibility  compel  even  a  peace-loving 
nation  like  the  United  States  to  be  prepared  for 
that  emergency.  Furthermore,  there  are  times 
and  circumstances  like  the  present,  in  which  war 
is  a  very  live  possibility.  It  may  be  a  war  of  de- 
fense; it  may  be  a  war  on  war-makers  in  the 
interest  of  peace.  It  is  necessary,  then,  to  pre- 
pare for  the  contingency  of  war,  without  regard- 
ing it  as  inevitable.     Lest  even  this  readiness 


WHO  IS  RESPONSIBLE?  145 

should  dispose  the  mind  to  accept  war  as  a 
fatality,  it  is  necessary  at  the  same  time  to  labor 
eagerly  and  hopefully  for  peace.  There  is  a  vast 
difference  between  being  resigned  to  failure  and 
being  prepared  for  failure,  and  the  difference  is 
made  by  the  determination  to  succeed.  It  is  pos- 
sible to  prepare  for  war  without  being  resigned 
to  it,  provided  one  struggles  with  conviction  to 
achieve  an  honorable  peace. 

So  much  for  our  generalizations.  Let  us  fit 
the  cap.  Many  who  have  recently  undertaken 
publicly  to  justify  Germany  have  betrayed  on 
their  own  part,  and  have  attributed  to  Germany 
herself,  a  belief  that  the  present  war  was  inevitable. 
There  is  one  infallible  sign  of  fatalism.  Believing 
as  they  do  that  an  event  is  inevitable  and  that 
individuals  like  themselves  are  both  impotent  to 
prevent  it  and  free  from  responsibility  for  it,  all 
fatalists  attribute  the  event  to  extra-individual 
causes,  to  abstractions  and  fictions  which  they 
suppose  to  operate  somehow,  despite  individuals. 

Most  of  us  can  remember  that  it  was  not  we 
ourselves,  but  "destiny"  that  annexed  the  Philip- 
pine Islands.  We  now  find  the  minds  of  German 
apologists  confused  with  a  like  superstition. 
Avoiding  the  history  of  the  crucial  decisions  and 
actions  of  individuals,  like  Count  Berchtold  and 


146    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

Emperor  William,  they  tell  us  that  the  war  is 
due  to  the  " racial  ambition"  of  the  Slav,  to  the 
French  sentiment  of  "revanche,"  and  to  British 
"commercial  jealousy."  Owing  to  the  operation 
of  these  forces  the  war  was  "bound  to  come"; 
these  were  its  great  "underlying  causes." 

Now,  is  this  cant  or  only  pedantry?  Is  it 
mere  talk  by  which  to  mask  ambition,  or  is  it  a 
sincere  wrong-headed  abstractionism  tinged  with 
sentimentality?  Perhaps  it  is  both.  When  the 
motives  of  a  nation  are  in  question  it  is  safer  to 
adopt  the  more  complex  rather  than  the  simpler 
theory.  In  any  case  the  causes  invoked,  taken 
as  impersonal  forces,  are  sheer  nonentities;  they 
cannot  cause  war  for  the  simple  reason  that  ex- 
cept as  particular  motives  in  concrete  individuals 
they  do  not  cause  at  all. 

There  are  Slavs,  no  doubt,  who  cherish  dreams 
of  racial  unity  and  aggrandizement,  as  there  are 
Servian  and  Russian  politicians  who  contrive 
ways  of  realizing  such  dreams.  But  these  are 
individuals  governed  by  countless  other  motives 
as  well,  limited  by  opportunity,  liable  to  change, 
and  in  some  measure  open  to  reason.  There  are 
vindictive  Frenchmen  and  jealous  Englishmen, 
no  doubt;  but  the  individual  minds  that  harbor 
these  passions  are  moved  also  by  other  impulses, 


WHO  IS  RESPONSIBLE?  147 

and  are  capable,  judging  by  the  history  of  the  last 
decade,  of  controlling  their  passions. 

Granting  that,  it  is  impossible  to  deny  that 
these  passions  might  subside  and  disappear  al- 
together. If  a  war  can  be  postponed  a  day  or  an 
hour,  no  man  can  deny  the  possibility  of  prevent- 
ing it  altogether.  Woe  to  the  man  who  takes  the 
last  irretrievable  step  that  cuts  off  that  possibility 
forever.  For  he  has  committed  the  act  oT  war; 
aided  and  abetted  by  all  who  have  confused  his 
mind  and  blinded  him  to  his  crucial  and  decisive 
responsibility.  To  single  out  some  one  sentiment 
from  the  rest,  to  abstract  it  from  the  individual 
minds  that  entertain  it  and  from  the  circum- 
stances that  limit  and  change  it,  to  invest  it  with 
a  power  to  operate  in  vacuo  and  with  superhuman 
power  like  an  evil  spirit,  is  both  a  silly  supersti- 
tion and,  in  the  practical  aspect,  a  culpable 
abandonment  of  moral  effort. 

Apparently  the  "if  there  be  war"  was  to  the 
German  authorities  so  vivid  a  possibility,  so 
overwhelming  a  probability,  that  they  were  un- 
willing to  risk  any  military  advantage  whatso- 
ever in  the  interest  of  a  thing  so  chimerical  as 
peace.  If  Germany  had  been  willing  to  lose  the 
advantage  of  swifter  mobilization  by  postponing 
the  outbreak  of  war  until  Russia  was  mobilized, 


148    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

there  is  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  war 
would  not  have  broken  out  at  all.  It  is  fairly 
evident  that  you  cannot  keep  the  peace  by  in- 
sisting upon  an  arrangement  such  that  you  would 
enjoy  every  initial  advantage  if  there  should  be 
war.  There  results  a  manoeuvring  for  position 
that  is  already  a  beginning  of  war.  It  is  true 
that  every  nation  is  in  a  measure  guilty.  For 
years  Europe  has  been  so  zealously  engaged  in 
a  hypothetical  war  as  to  make  the  transition  to 
real  war  an  easy  and  natural  one.  But  it  can 
scarcely  be  denied  that  efforts  to  reduce  arma- 
ments and  establish  peace  upon  a  permanent 
basis  have  met  with  least  encouragement  in  Ger- 
many, and  this  owing  not  so  much  to  German 
militarism  as  to  German  scepticism. 

The  German  loves  peace,  but  doesn't  believe 
in  it;  he  hates  war,  but  resigns  himself  to  it  as 
inevitable.  The  Yellow  Peril  or  the  Slav  Peril 
is  forcing  it  upon  him,  and  thrusting  the  sword 
into  his  reluctant  hands.  With  admirable  resolu- 
tion and  skill  he  makes  ready  to  meet  these 
fantastic  perils,  and  lo,  by  his  very  readiness  he 
has  made  them  for  the  first  time  real.  He  has 
himself  brought  the  Japanese  to  Kiaochow  and 
the  Russian  to  Konigsberg. 

If  German  explanations  of  the  war  have  con- 


WHO  IS  RESPONSIBLE?  149 

firmed  and  aggravated  the  prejudice  they  were 
designed  to  correct,  it  is  because  they  fail  to  go 
to  the  individual  centres  of  human  responsibility. 
It  is  natural  for  Englishmen  or  Americans  to 
want  to  know  who  made  the  war,  not  what  made 
it.  And  this  is  not  a  mere  habit  of  mind;  it  is 
good  history  and  sound  psychology.  In  order  to 
cause  events,  the  passions  which  move  men  and 
societies  must  find  expression  in  action.  Before 
they  can  do  this  they  must  undergo  selection  and 
limitation,  through  their  reciprocal  interplay, 
and  through  the  various  checks  of  habit,  author- 
ity and  reason.  Eventually  passion  may  pass 
over  into  volition  and  overt  action.  But  it  is 
during  this  transition  from  tendencies  and  poten- 
tialities to  particular  acts  of  particular  individuals 
that  they  are  subject  to  control.  The  tendencies 
and  potentialities  themselves,  such  as  race  hatred 
or  land  hunger,  are  indeterminate  as  to  their 
effects.  They  may  result  in  this  or  that,  accord- 
ing to  the  turn  they  are  given  at  the  crisis  of 
action.  The  full  absurdity  of  invoking  them  as 
causes  of  war  can  be  understood  only  when  one 
reflects  that  there  always  exist  such  causes  of 
war  between  all  the  peoples  of  the  earth.  They 
are  among  the  constant  forces  which  human 
policy  must  take  account  of,  but  they  are  not  the 


150    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

differential  causes  which  actualize  specific  events, 
nor  the  instrumental  causes  with  which  these 
are  controlled. 

We  do  not  explain  the  sinking  of  the  Titanic 
by  the  law  of  gravitation.  Ships  do  tend  toward 
the  bottom  of  the  sea,  as  men  tend  to  lie  prone 
upon  the  earth;  nevertheless  many  ships  float  and 
men  do  for  a  time  stand  erect  and  even  rise  into 
the  air.  In  other  words,  there  are  other  forces 
besides  gravitation,  and  the  physical  history  of 
man  is  due  to  the  balance  and  regulation  of  these 
forces.  There  is  jealousy,  bitterness  and  sus- 
picion enough  between  some  Americans  and 
some  Japanese  to  provide  abundant  "underlying 
causes"  for  the  outbreak  of  war.  And  should 
such  a  disaster  be  visited  upon  us  no  doubt  these 
and  other  more  remote  generalizations  would  be 
invoked  in  order  to  obscure  and  excuse  individual 
responsibility.  But  it  will  in  fact  be  as  unneces- 
sary to-morrow  as  to-day,  unless  it  be  for  the 
wanton  recklessness,  selfishness  or  stupidity  of 
some  individual  who  at  a  particular  crisis  allows 
these  sentiments  to  break  forth  into  hostile 
deeds.  There  are  underlying  causes  for  a  brawl 
between  every  man  and  his  neighbor,  inasmuch 
as  there  are  in  every  human  heart  impulses  of 
self-aggrandizement   and   anger   that   would,    if 


WHO  IS  RESPONSIBLE?  151 

conditions  were  favorable  and  checks  removed, 
drive  each  man  at  his  neighbor's  throat.  But 
when  such  deeds  of  lawlessness  occur  we  do  not 
ascribe  them  to  these  impulses,  but  to  the  de- 
fects of  will  and  reason  by  which  they  were  let 
loose. 

Human  nature  is  warlike.  True,  but  not  con- 
clusive. The  Eskimos  of  Greenland  and  the 
African  Pigmies,  for  example,  are  not  at  war. 
Then  we  must  add  that  human  nature,  condi- 
tions being  favorable,  is  also  peaceful.  And  if 
we  admit  this,  we  must  conclude  that  since  man 
is  capable  of  either,  whether  he  be  at  war  or  at 
peace,  is  going  to  be  determined  not  by  these 
deeper  and  more  constant  capacities,  but  by  the 
conditions  that  stimulate,  evoke  and  facilitate 
them.  These  conditions  may  be  controlled  so 
that  the  peaceful  possibilities  are  realized,  and  the 
warlike  possibilities  held  in  check  or  transmuted 
into  their  opposite.  In  this  fact  lies  the  hope  of 
civilization. 


IX 

THE  UNIVERSITY  AND  THE  INDIVIDUAL 

THE  recent  course  of  events  has  forced  to  the 
front  an  old  and  crucial  issue.  The  need 
for  economic  and  military  preparedness,  for  a 
more  vivid  national  consciousness,  and  for  some 
comprehensive  and  synthetic  treatment  of  acute 
social  maladies,  have  steadily  inclined  opinion 
toward  centralization  and  institutional  control. 
But  this  trend  appears  to  threaten  that  individual 
latitude  and  diversity  which  is  the  most  cherished 
tradition  among  English  and  French  speaking 
peoples.  It  behooves  us,  then,  to  seek  for  the  tap- 
root of  that  individualism  which  we  prize,  in 
order  to  know  on  what  its  life  and  nourishment 
depend. 

It  has  often  been  observed  that  what  imperils 
individualism  in  these  United  States  of  America 
in  this  twentieth  century  is  not  institutional 
tyranny,  but  the  unconscious  and  insidious 
tyranny  which  is  exercised  by  the  unorganized 
social  mass.    Here  is  a  tyranny  that  is  not  only 

powerful,  but  capricious.     It  has  not  even  the 

152 


UNIVERSITY  AND  INDIVIDUAL      153 

merit  of  consistency.  And  the  individualism 
which  it  suppresses  is  the  essential  individualism. 
Institutional  authority,  however  tyrannical,  may 
at  least  be  credited  with  suppressing  that  lawless 
self-seeking  which  borrows  the  honorable  name 
of  liberty,  but  which  is  in  fact  its  most  ancient 
enemy.  The  mass  influence,  on  the  other  hand, 
is  a  menace  to  that  self-possession,  that  capacity 
for  private  judgment  which  is  the  soul  of  all 
disciplined  and  constructive  liberty. 

Since  tyranny  of  this  sort  is  not  imposed  by  in- 
stitutional authority,  it  is  futile  to  resist  it  merely 
by  political  means.  It  is  not  to  be  met  directly 
either  by  curtailing  the  functions  of  the  state  or 
by  enlarging  the  political  activities  of  the  indi- 
vidual. For  it  is  primarily  a  question  of  how  much 
thinking  an  individual  is  going  to  do  for  himself. 
The  more  a  man  thinks,  the  less  is  he  imitative  and 
suggestible.  The  problem,  then,  is  to  promote  the 
practise  of  thinking.  The  problem  is  to  be  solved, 
if  at  all,  by  educational  agencies,  and  these  agen- 
cies must  be  directed  to  the  end  of  cultivating  the- 
oretical capacity,  or  the  gift  of  knowledge.  For 
to  create  a  knower  is  to  create  an  individual  who 
may,  notwithstanding  the  pressure  of  the  social 
mass,  remain  an  individual. 

This  platitude  becomes  less  insufferable  when 


154    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

one  emphasizes  the  difference  between  knowledge 
and  opinion,  which  everybody  admits  and  which 
everybody  ignores.  That  common  sense  is  care- 
less about  this  difference  is  proved  by  the  fact 
that  the  term  "knowledge"  is  perpetually  em- 
ployed where  the  terms  "opinion,"  "information" 
or  "belief"  would  be  more  correct.  For  most 
of  us  the  first  lesson  in  knowledge  proper  is  ge- 
ometry. We  may  remember,  for  example,  the 
theorem  that  the  sum  of  the  interior  angles  of  a 
triangle  is  equal  to  two  right  angles.  We  have 
all  forgotten  how  the  proof  runs;  but  we  can, 
perhaps,  recover  what  happened  to  our  minds 
in  the  course  of  it.  When  we  came  to  the  theorem 
we  knew  what  we  were  going  to  prove.  One 
might  say  carelessly  that  we  already  "knew" 
that  the  interior  angles  of  a  triangle  were  equal 
to  two  right  angles.  But  that  would  be  to  over- 
look the  immensely  important  difference  between 
the  state  of  mind  before  and  after  the  under- 
standing of  the  proof. 

Before  the  proof  we  believed  the  proposition  as 
hard  as  we  did  afterward.  Our  opinion  was  not 
changed.  Nor  did  we  get  any  new  information. 
A  surveyor  who  wished  simply  to  use  geometry, 
would  have  been  as  well  off  before.  There  are 
handy  manuals  of  geometry  for  surveyors  or  navi- 


UNIVERSITY  AND  INDIVIDUAL      155 

gators  which  contain  only  the  theorems  themselves 
without  the  proofs.  But  if  we  had  simply  learned 
from  such  a  manual  we  would  have  failed  alto- 
gether to  experience  just  that  flash  of  insight, 
that  moment  of  illumination,  when  the  proof  is 
complete  and  one  feels  a  comfortable  glow  in 
one's  rational  parts.  I  do  not  believe  that  there 
was  ever  a  mind  so  benighted  as  not  to  expe- 
rience a  tiny  bit  of  pleasure  at  just  that  moment 
when  it  can  say:  "I  see!"  If  one  were  a  cock 
this  would  be  the  time  to  crow.  But  whether  it 
be  joyous  or  not,  this  is  the  moment  of  knowl- 
edge. 

In  other  words,  to  know,  one  must  know  why, 
or  on  what  grounds.  For  every  proposition  that 
is  true  there  is  somewhere  a  "because,"  the  evi- 
dence that  proves  it.  To  assert  the  proposition 
in  the  light  of  the  evidence  for  it,  is  to  know.  The 
evidence  is  not  always,  or  even  usually,  of  the 
geometrical  sort.  The  proof  of  a  pudding,  for 
example,  is  in  the  eating.  I  am  not  insisting  that 
everything  must  be  argued  or  reasoned  about  in 
order  to  be  proved,  but  only  that  for  every  as- 
sertion that  is  true  there  is  some  kind  of  a  proof, 
and  that  one  does  not  "know"  the  assertion  un- 
less one's  mind  takes  in  the  proof  as  well. 

Now  it  is  evident  that  if  knowledge  is  to  be 


156    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

defined  in  this  very  exacting  way,  then  there 
cannot  be  nearly  so  much  of  it  in  the  world  as 
is  ordinarily  supposed.  If  everybody  were  for- 
bidden to  say  anything  that  he  couldn't  prove, 
a  sudden  hush  would  fall  upon  the  world,  and 
such  events,  for  example,  as  an  afternoon  tea, 
or  a  debate  in  Congress,  or  the  present  essay  would 
have  to  be  stricken  off  the  program  altogether! 
If  no  one  were  allowed  to  use  or  act  on  any  proposi- 
tions that  he  couldn't  prove,  most  of  the  business 
of  life  would  have  to  be  stopped,  and  very  few 
things  indeed  would  get  done.  No,  I  do  not  rec- 
ommend that  opinion,  belief  and  information  be 
abjured  altogether,  and  that  knowledge  be  put  in 
their  place.  But,  on  the  other  hand,  it  does  seem 
fairly  apparent  that  somewhere,  once  in  a  while, 
there  should  be  somebody  that  knows.  Other- 
wise one  does  not  see  any  way  in  which  opinion, 
belief  and  information  could  be  tested  for  truth, 
and  have  their  trustworthiness  guaranteed. 

Theoretical  capacity,  then,  means  first  of  all 
the  capacity  to  make  truth,  to  reach  sound  con- 
clusions, and  to  distinguish  between  well-grounded 
and  ungrounded  assertions.  But  it  involves, 
furthermore,  some  comprehension  of  the  limits 
of  knowledge.  The  common  failure  to  under- 
stand the  limits  of  practical  knowledge  is  a  case 


UNIVERSITY  AND  INDIVIDUAL       157 

in  point.  If  I  know  that  by  combining  with 
another  man,  B,  I  may  crush  out  a  third  com- 
petitor, C,  monopolize  an  industry,  raise  prices, 
and  win  a  fortune,  my  knowledge  may  be  well- 
grounded,  based  upon  the  incontestable  evidence 
of  experience.  But  there  is  also  much  that  I  do 
not  know;  for  example,  what  effect  such  practises 
may  have  upon  the  industrial  world  at  large,  and 
what  effect  this  effect  in  turn  may  have  upon  the 
health  of  the  body  politic  or  upon  the  general 
welfare  of  men.  I  do  not  even  know  what  effect 
the  winning  of  the  fortune  may  have  upon  my 
own  personal  happiness,  or  the  saving  of  my 
soul.  If  I  act  on  the  narrower  knowledge  as 
though  it  were  all-comprehensive,  I  am  guilty 
of  the  sort  of  ignorance  which  consists  in  ignoring 
how  little,  after  all,  I  do  know;  and  my  practical 
wisdom  may,  because  of  its  very  cock-sureness  or 
sense  of  certainty,  turn  out  to  be  the  most  egre- 
gious folly.  Or  if,  having  learned  a  little  science, 
say,  for  example,  the  theory  of  electrons,  I  straight- 
way proceeded  as  though  I  lived  in  a  world  con- 
stituted wholly  of  electrons,  and  remained  ig- 
norant of  moral  or  religious  truths,  I  should  be 
so  lacking  in  sense  of  proportion  as  to  imperil  all 
my  deeper  interests.  This  is  what  is  meant  when 
it  is  said  that  "a  little  knowledge  is  a  dangerous 


158    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

thing."  A  little  knowledge  is  dangerous  when 
it  is  mistaken  for  much. 

It  is  important,  then,  to  have  the  unknown 
charted  on  the  map  as  well  as  the  known.  And 
it  is  scarcely  less  important  to  know  the  difference 
between  certain  knowledge  and  probable  knowl- 
edge. It  appears  that  the  certainty  of  knowledge 
is  in  inverse  proportion  to  its  importance.  Every 
one  would  agree,  I  think,  that  the  biggest  ques- 
tions are  those  of  politics  and  of  religion.  And 
yet  here  it  is  impossible  to  reach  any  conclusion 
at  all  comparable  in  certainty  with  the  knowl- 
edge that  "this  book  is  on  this  table."  Therefore 
we  should  learn  so  far  as  possible  to  regard  pre- 
vailing opinions  in  the  larger  and  more  complex 
matters  as  subject  to  correction.  If  we  do  not, 
we  simply  cut  ourselves  off  from  the  possibility  of 
increased  light  where  we  are  most  in  need  of  it. 

Theoretical  capacity  is  sustained,  furthermore, 
by  that  primitive  instinct  of  curiosity  through 
which  the  pursuit  of  knowledge  may  be  made  to 
bring  satisfaction  of  itself.  It  is  an  instinct  which 
requires  to  be  kept  alive  or  reawakened,  rather 
than  an  artificial  interest  which  requires  to  be 
cultivated.  There  is  no  one  who  has  not  once 
felt  this  curiosity  as  a  powerful  impelling  force. 
It  is  a  matter  of  common  observation  and  regret 


UNIVERSITY  AND  INDIVIDUAL       159 

that  the  sophisticated  youth  often  shows  less 
eagerness  of  mind,  less  of  that  wondering,  specula- 
tive impulse,  than  a  small  boy  of  seven.  "No 
sceptical  philosopher,"  says  Mr.  Chesterton,  "can 
ask  any  questions  that  may  not  equally  be  asked 
by  a  tired  child  on  a  hot  afternoon.  'Am  I  a 
boy?  Why  am  I  a  boy?  Why  aren't  I  a  chair? 
What  is  a  chair?'  A  child  will  sometimes  ask 
questions  of  this  sort  for  two  hours.  And  the 
philosophers  of  Protestant  Europe  have  asked 
them  for  two  hundred  years."  One  who  has  met 
with  this  sort  of  child  will  be  surprised  that  Mr. 
Chesterton  should  speak  of  the  child  as  "tired." 
Alas !  it  is  the  poor  adult  that  is  tired — perhaps 
I  should  say  bored,  or  at  best  patiently  indul- 
gent, because  he  has  lost  the  hot  interest,  the  ad- 
venturous zeal  from  which  these  interrogations 
spring.  It  isn't  so  much  that  the  adult  has 
grown  wiser,  as  that  he  has  grown  busier,  and  is 
more  dominated  by  habits,  more  broken  to  the 
harness.  He  is  already  in  the  rut  of  practical 
routine,  and  is  annoyed  at  anything  that  sug- 
gests his  ignorance  and  limitations. 

Theoretical  capacity,  then,  betokens  the  mind 
which  is  emancipated  from  imitative  or  dogmatic 
belief  by  a  close  regard  for  evidence  and  proof, 
and  which  is  emancipated  from  the  narrowing 


160    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

routine  of  "affairs"  by  that  intellectual  spon- 
taneity with  which  every  naive  mind  is  en- 
dowed. The  quickened  mind  will  complete  its 
own  emancipation.  Thought  loves  generality  and 
knows  no  bounds.  It  fixes  upon  the  laws  that 
abide,  and  neglects  the  local  and  the  perishable. 
Its  auxiliary  and  complement  is  the  creative 
imagination — the  one  miracle  that  even  science 
cannot  deny,  by  which  the  mind  may  not  only 
overcome  time  and  space,  but  may  also  depart 
from  the  routine  of  perception  and  trace  ideal 
connections  and  unities  for  the  will  to  achieve. 

The  true  individualism  is  this  intellectual  self- 
sufficiency,  this  capacity  to  do  one's  own 
thinking.  Its  substance  is  originality.  It  is  not 
negative  but  creative.  It  is  not  lawlessness— a 
petulant  assertion  of  impulse  or  private  prefer- 
ence; but  a  deliverance  from  convention  and  the 
dead  weight  of  vulgarity,  to  the  end  that  the 
mind  may  freely  judge  and  yield  to  the  guidance 
of  evidence  and  facts.  It  is  that  liberality  of 
mind,  that  a  large  discourse,  looking  before  and 
after,  "that  capability  and  Godlike  reason," 
which  is  not  given  to  "rust  in  us  unused." 

This  is  essentially  an  individual  and  not  a  so- 
cial attribute.  Whereas  passion  may  be  social, 
only  an  individual  can  think.    We  speak,  prop- 


UNIVERSITY  AND  INDIVIDUAL      161 

erly,  of  an  angry  mob.  The  mob  itself  may  be 
angry — and  is  a  very  different  thing  from,  say,  a 
thousand  men  each  of  whom  is  angry  all  by  him- 
self. Individualities  melt  and  coalesce  in  the 
heat  of  passion,  and  the  mob  feels  and  acts  as  a 
unity.  There  is  also  such  a  thing  as  social  con- 
science, or  as  common  opinion,  or  as  customary 
belief.  Opinion  and  belief  are  states  of  mind 
that  may  assume  a  social  form.  But  there  is  no 
such  thing  as  a  mob's  making  inferences  or  dem- 
onstrating theorems  or  criticising  action.  So- 
ciety cannot  know  the  sense  of  drawing  a  con- 
clusion from  premises  or  judging  in  the  light  of 
evidence.  The  weight  of  the  social  mass  is  per- 
petually tending  to  suppress  these  independent 
and  solitary  activities.  In  so  far  as  the  individual 
becomes  absorbed  in  the  mass  he  ceases  to  think, 
to  criticise,  and  to  know.  The  individual  in  de- 
tachment is  the  organ  with  which  society  has 
to  do  these  things. 

Shouting  with  the  crowd  is  always  the  line  of 
least  resistance.  But  there  never  has  been  a 
time  in  the  world's  history  in  which  blind  social 
forces  have  been  so  strong.  Through  the  in- 
crease of  facilities  for  transportation  and  com- 
munication, and  through  the  wide  diffusion  of 
the  rudiments  of  education,  all  men  are  coming 


1 62     THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

to  form  one  great  circle  of  gossip.  The  power- 
ful forces  that  impel  a  man  to  go  with  his  crowd, 
act  with  it,  believe  with  it,  feel  with  it,  now 
operate  over  an  enormous  area,  with  a  corre- 
spondingly irresistible  power.  The  forces  which 
thus  bring  men  together  do  good  or  evil  quite  in- 
differently. It  all  depends  on  what  direction  they 
take.  So  far  as  they  themselves  are  concerned, 
they  may  take  any  direction.  Hence  the  unprec- 
edented demand  for  a  poise  and  independence 
that  shall  permit  of  insight  and  kindle  beacon 
lights  to  show  the  way. 

Where  is  that  theoretical  capacity  which  makes 
the  free  mind,  to  be  cultivated  ?  This  is,  I  believe, 
the  great  and  the  unique  opportunity  of  the 
university.  Let  the  university  dedicate  itself 
to  this  one  form  of  service,  and  make  every  con- 
cession which  this  service  requires.  Here  is  the 
crux  of  this  much-disputed  matter  of  academic 
liberty.  Whatever  restraints  it  may  be  neces- 
sary to  impose  elsewhere,  the  university  should 
be  the  one  community  that  tolerates  eccentricity 
and  conceit  in  the  hope  that  once  in  a  while  they 
may  be,  as  they  often  are,  the  marks  of  growing 
genius.  Being  normal,  being  a  good  average 
man,  of  the  familiar  and  popular  type,  is  cer- 


UNIVERSITY  AND  INDIVIDUAL      163 

tainly  agreeable;  but  it  should,  in  a  university 
at  least,  be  regarded  as  not  deserving  of  special 
note  or  praise.  Most  men  are  normal,  and  many 
will  inevitably  be  or  become  so,  for  the  simple 
reason  that  we  call  normal  what  most  men  are 
or  tend  to  become.  Exceptionality,  distinction 
is  the  thing,  and  to  encourage  it  one  must  regard 
the  freak  or  queer  man  not  with  hostility  but 
with  hopeful  interest. 

It  is  a  great  mistake  to  suppose  that  one  in- 
stitution like  the  university  should  be  expected 
to  do  every  good  thing  at  once.  We  are  grateful 
to  Colonel  Goethals  for  having  built  the  Panama 
Canal;  it  would  be  unreasonable  to  withhold 
our  praise  until  we  have  learned  whether  he  is  a 
good  tennis-player  or  has  a  fine  ear.  for  music. 
If  we  can  find  a  doctor  who  can  cure  our  bodies, 
we  do  not  ask  him  to  save  our  souls.  We  do  not 
charge  him  with  impiety  because  he  does  not  espe- 
cially interest  himself  in  the  matter.  Similarly, 
the  university  is  not  designed  to  be  a  nursery, 
reform  school,  Sunday-school,  armory  or  social 
club.  Other  institutions  are.  Let  each  institu- 
tion be  judged  by  its  success  in  its  own  field. 
Let  the  university  be  looked  to  as  a  school  for 
intellectual  leadership.  If  it  does  not  do  this 
work,  criticise  it — or,  better  still,  help  it.     But 


164    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

do  not  confuse  the  situation  by  asking  it  to  pro- 
tect the  innocent,  spread  the  true  faith  or  stim- 
ulate good-fellowship.  If  it  does  these  things,  as 
it  no  doubt  will  in  a  degree,  so  much  the  bet- 
ter; but  they  are  not,  in  its  case,  the  one  thing 
needful. 

Above  all,  do  not  ask  the  university  to  be 
merely  useful.  It  would  be  much  as  though  you 
should  ask  Newton  to  be  a  mechanic  or  Raphael 
a  house  painter.  Keep  the  money-changer  out 
of  the  temple  of  knowledge.  It  is  better  that  a 
university  should  be  a  zoological  garden  of  strange 
beasts,  or  even  a  museum  of  antiquities,  than 
that  it  should  become  a  mere  corner  of  the  mar- 
ket-place. Disorder,  impiety,  iconoclasm  are  not 
evils  in  a  university.  They  are  the  by-products 
and  symptoms  of  its  proper  spirit  and  genius. 
That  which  is  evil,  and  evil  unmitigated,  is  con- 
servatism, traditionalism,  worldliness,  conven- 
tionality, or  the  artificial  prolongation  of  infancy. 
Here  the  youthful  intellect  must  be  urged  to  play 
with  fire  in  order  that  it  may  receive  its  baptism. 
The  wholesome  university  type  is  the  bold  and 
radical  mind,  that  is  not  afraid  to  challenge  the 
existing  order  of  things. 

It  is  well  that  we  should  understand  that  a  gen- 
uinely free  mind  will  criticise  both  the  economic 


UNIVERSITY  AND  INDIVIDUAL       165 

and  the  political  establishments,  as  well  as  the 
prevailing  religion — for  which  in  these  days  we 
appear  to  feel  less  solicitude.  It  was  once  fondly 
supposed  that  a  free  mind  could  be  confined  to 
the  circle  of  its  own  private  thoughts,  in  order 
that  institutions  might  go  unscathed.  This  was 
the  compromise  adopted  by  the  philosophers  of 
the  seventeenth  century.  Its  impossibility  is  the 
lesson  of  the  eighteenth  century.  Institutions 
lie  in  the  path  of  the  critical  mind,  which  cannot 
ignore  them  without  retreating.  The  radical 
mind,  furthermore,  perfects  its  service  only 
through  a  criticism  and  rationalization  of  life. 
A  university  must  not  only  protect  the  liberty 
of  criticising  economic  institutions;  it  must 
cultivate  the  propensity  to  criticise  them.  For 
otherwise  social  progress  is  left  to  the  spasmodic 
benevolence  of  those  who  possess,  or  to  the 
hunger  and  resentment  of  those  who  want. 

If  the  university  to  serve  its  end  must  be  free 
from  the  control,  or  even  the  influence,  of  any  eco- 
nomic establishment,  it  is  no  less  necessary  that 
it  should  be  independent  of  political  institutions 
or  policies.  Here  is  a  point  of  contact  between 
the  life  of  the  nation  and  the  larger  life  of  the 
race.  It  is  necessary  that  a  state  should  pursue 
a  policy,  and  that  a  nation  should  have  a  special 


1 66    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

character,  which  at  the  same  time  distinguishes 
and  narrows  it.  But  national  life  needs  to  be 
kept  sweet  by  open  inlets  from  the  common  past, 
from  different  and  complementary  cultures,  and 
from  the  great  neutral  world  of  the  intellect  and 
the  imagination.  The  university  is  one  of  the 
greatest  of  these  channels.  Its  place  is  not  in 
the  midst  of  the  nation,  but  on  the  border  where 
it  may  command  what  lies  beyond. 

If  this  be  the  true  ideal  of  a  university  it  is 
clear  that  it  calls  for  a  very  special  and  generous 
kind  of  loyalty  on  the  part  of  its  benefactors, 
or  on  the  part  of  the  citizens  who  support  it  for 
the  good  of  the  community.  If  you  would  be 
the  true  friend  or  benefactor  of  a  university  give 
to  it  not  in  order  that  your  opinions  may  pre- 
vail, but  in  order  that  truth  may  prevail.  Serve 
it,  not  to  promote  your  own  ideas,  but  in  order 
that  there  may  be  ideas.  Rejoice  that  there  is 
more  in  the  world  than  you  would  ever  have 
thought  of  yourself.  Cheerfully  tolerate,  and 
even  help,  for  the  sake  of  the  greater  wisdom 
that  may  come  of  it  in  the  end,  opinions  that 
you  do  not  agree  with.  Encourage  inquiry, 
criticism  and  knowledge  even  when  you  don't 
understand,  and  thereby  prove  that  you  have 
more  confidence  in  man  than  you  have  in  your 
own  powers. 


UNIVERSITY  AND  INDIVIDUAL      167 

If  this  be  the  true  ideal  of  a  university  it  follows 
that  its  teachers  should  be  primarily  men  of  knowl- 
edge, men  of  trained  critical,  experimental  and 
theoretical  capacity.  These  men  must  be  given 
the  opportunity  and  the  facilities  for  research. 
They  must  be  admired  for  what  they  achieve  in 
research,  and  not  blamed  for  failure  to  achieve 
some  other  thing  like  popularity,  or  invention, 
or  virtue,  or  personal  beauty,  which  are  not  the 
particular  ends  to  which  they  are  called.  And 
this  spirit  of  research  should  be  diffused  among 
students,  so  that  they  may  know  how  to  value 
knowledge,  or  may  know  what  they  know  and 
what  they  do  not. 

In  other  words,  university  teaching  should 
be  so  conducted  as  to  make  every  student  ac- 
quainted with  the  way  in  which  knowledge  is 
formed,  in  order  that  he  may  know  how  far  he 
may  trust  the  prevailing  ideas  of  his  time.  Those 
who  devote  themselves  to  the  making  of  knowl- 
edge will  necessarily  be  a  small  fraction  of  society, 
but  all  the  more  reason  why  good  judgment,  or 
the  general  capacity  for  criticism  should  be  widely 
diffused.  The  very  presence  in  an  educational 
centre  of  men  of  intellectual  originality  will  go 
far  toward  effecting  such  a  result  by  example 
and  contagious  admiration.  But  it  is  also  im- 
portant that  knowledge  of  all  sorts  should  be 


1 68    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

so  taught  as  to  impart  not  only  the  conclusions, 
but  also  something  of  the  method  by  which  these 
conclusions  are  reached.  Every  university  stu- 
dent should  be  brought  to  the  frontier  where  he 
may  witness  for  himself  the  conversion  of  igno- 
rance into  knowledge,  and  where  he  may  exercise 
himself  in  the  art,  even  though  he  do  no  more 
than  solve  over  again  the  problems  which  great 
investigators  have  already  solved  before  him. 

The  great  university  teacher  will  at  the  same 
time  quicken  that  native  curiosity,  that  sheer 
inquisitiveness  with  which  happily  the  mind  is 
latently  endowed.  The  great  teacher  will  be  not 
he  who  fills,  but  he  who  opens,  the  minds  of  his 
students.  He  will  befriend  the  man  who  loves  a 
problem  and  delights  to  solve  it,  in  whom  the  in- 
tellect may  enjoy  itself  at  play;  he  will  challenge 
and  disturb  that  lost  soul  which  seems  to  have  no 
mind  at  all  except  a  memory  and  a  few  prejudices. 
We  hear  much  of  the  importance  of  having  teachers 
who  are  vital,  in  touch  with  the  world,  or  pos- 
sessed of  a  magnetic  personality.  But  the  teachers 
that  have  left  the  deepest  impress  upon  me  are 
those  who  somehow  made  me  feel  that  to  think 
and  to  discover  and  to  know  were  glorious  things 
in  themselves;  who  never  apologized  for  them 
or  tried  to  justify  them  in  terms  of  something 


UNIVERSITY  AND  INDIVIDUAL       169 

else,  but  exhibited  so  sincere  a  devotion  to  them 
as  to  breed  by  contagion  and  example  a  like  re- 
spect for  them  in  others.  The  eager  and  devoted 
scholar,  the  man  of  powerful  intellect  and  pas- 
sionate devotion  to  truth,  has  the  essentials  of  a 
great  university  teacher.  The  rest,  whether  he 
be  handsome,  amusing,  facile,  or  worldly-wise,  is 
comparatively  unimportant. 

Freedom  and  detachment  of  mind  does  not, 
as  we  have  seen,  imply  that  one  shall  occupy 
oneself  with  recondite  or  artificial  topics.  I  am 
far  from  proposing  that  a  university  shall  ded- 
icate itself  exclusively  to  the  study  of  hyperspace, 
Indie  philology,  and  the  transcendental  ego  of 
apperception.  These  are  proper  enough  objects 
of  study,  but  they  are  not  good  illustrations  of 
my  meaning  because  they  put  the  emphasis  in 
the  wrong  place.  It  is  not  the  subject  of  study 
that  is  to  be  detached  from  life,  but  the  method 
and  the  mood  of  study.  There  is  no  better  sub- 
ject of  study  for  the  purposes  I  have  in  mind 
than  life  itself.  I  want  simply  to  emphasize  the 
difference  between  studying  life  and  living  it. 
The  thing  you  study  may  be  as  practical  as  you 
please.  One  may  study  commerce,  or  politics, 
or  the  distribution  of  wealth,  or  human  happiness, 
or  any  near  and  familiar  thing.    I  want  only  to 


170    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

urge  that  it  is  the  particular  business  of  a  uni- 
versity to  promote  a  free,  cool  and  profound 
study  of  these  things:  the  sort  of  study  which 
leads  the  mind  to  raise  fundamental  questions 
with  a  view  to  seizing  on  fundamental  ideas,  or 
in  the  hope  of  an  occasional  flash  of  insight  by 
which  one  may  see  far  beyond  one's  habitual 
horizon.  A  single  swift  and  momentary  vision 
thus  granted  may  endure  through  life  and  make 
the  difference  for  the  balance  of  one's  years  be- 
tween intellectual  slavery  and  intellectual  emanci- 
pation. 

It  is  not  that  I  disbelieve  in  education  for 
service.  It  is  for  the  sake  of  service  that  one 
must  urge  the  university  to  promote  intellectual 
independence  and  originality;  for  to  do  this  is 
to  render  that  peculiar  service  to  which  the  uni- 
versity is  dedicated  and  for  which  it  is  truly  in- 
dispensable. And  it  is  because  every  educated 
man  with  any  strain  of  nobility  in  him  is  going 
out  in  the  world  to  serve  his  fellows  that  he 
should  take  with  him  that  which  will  increase 
and  elevate  his  service.  He  must  first  learn  to 
think  for  himself.  But  if  he  does,  it  will  turn  out 
in  the  end  that  he  has  been  thinking  for  others.  A 
man  who  does  not  think  for  himself  does  not  think 
at  all.    Having  that  power,  he  may  be  qualified 


UNIVERSITY  AND   INDIVIDUAL       171 

to  enlighten  and  to  lead,  when  otherwise  he  could 
do  no  more  than  follow  blindly  or  exert  himself 
at  a  task  of  which  he  does  not  know  the  meaning. 
I  have  not  meant  to  encourage  men  to  cut  them- 
selves off  from  their  fellows  and  content  them- 
selves with  their  own  study  and  meditation. 
There  are  a  few  men  whose  pre-eminent  fitness 
for  an  intellectual  life  would  justify  them  in 
taking  this  course.  But  they  are  very  few.  Most 
men  must  live  out  in  the  world.  And  there,  out 
in  the  world,  is  where  there  is  need  not  so  much 
of  what  we  call  amen  of  the  world"  as  of  men 
of  mind,  men  of  the  spirit.  "It  is  easy  in  the 
world,"  says  Emerson,  "to  live  after  the  world's 
opinion;  it  is  easy  in  solitude  to  live  after  our 
own;  but  the  great  man  is  he  who  in  the  midst 
of  the  crowd  keeps  with  perfect  sweetness  the 
independence  of  solitude." 

To  care  for  truth  itself,  and  to  seek  to  beget 
in  others,  not  the  acceptance  of  one's  own  be- 
lief, but  the  will  to  know,  points  to  tolerance  as 
the  great  practical  virtue  which  must  char- 
acterize university  life.  An  intolerant  man  will 
prefer  to  be  surrounded  by  those  who  have  opin- 
ions similar  to  his  own,  and  will  not  care  whether 
they  think  or  not.  A  truly  tolerant  man  will 
prefer  to  be  surrounded  by  those  who  think,  and 


172     THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

will  care  comparatively  little  whether  they  agree 
with  him  or  not.  If  any  community  is  to  be  an 
intellectual  centre,  where  intellectual  work  is  done, 
where  all  men  learn  what  intellectuality  is,  and 
where  some  may  be  expected  to  contract  it  them- 
selves, there  must  be  a  love  of  truth  itself,  and 
an  earnest  desire  that  it  shall  prevail,  which  is 
stronger  than  the  love  of  any  single  opinion. 
There  must  be  a  sort  of  intellectual  high  spirits, 
in  which  one  loves  a  brave  foe  more  than  a  craven 
follower.  It  is  often  supposed  that  being  tolerant 
means  having  no  conviction.  Thus  Robert 
Browning  said:  "There  are  those  who  believe 
something,  and  therefore  will  tolerate  nothing; 
and,  on  the  other  hand,  those  who  tolerate  every- 
thing, because  they  believe  nothing."  But  it  is 
not  impossible,  nor  even  rare,  among  persons  of 
genuine  intellectual  zeal  both  to  have  convic- 
tions and  also  to  love  in  others  that  quality  of 
mind  that  will  express  itself  in  contrary  opinions. 
I  think  that  the  noblest  words  which  were  ever 
said  of  university  education  were  those  said  of 
Harvard  by  William  James  upon  the  occasion  of 
his  receiving  the  LL.D.  degree  in  1903.1  He 
spoke   as   one   who   was   in  a  certain  sense  an 

1  Published  under  the  title  of  "The  True  Harvard,"  in  Memories 
and  Studies,  pp.  348-355. 


UNIVERSITY  AND   INDIVIDUAL      173 

outsider  at  Harvard,  for  he  had  never  been  an 
undergraduate  of  the  college;  he  had  never  sat 
in  the  cheering  section  at  football  games,  he  had 
not  been  a  member  of  undergraduate  clubs,  and 
it  is  altogether  probable  that  he  had  never  partici- 
pated in  any  form  of  collective  college  enthusiasm. 
He  had  no  class  to  walk  with  in  the  commence- 
ment procession.  He  did  not  seek  to  belittle 
these  things  because  he  had  no  part  in  them,  but 
rather  to  describe  another  sort  of  loyalty  which 
he  and  others  like  him  felt  no  less  deeply.  We 
may  value  our  college,  he  virtually  said,  as  we 
value  our  family,  merely  because  it  is  ours,  be- 
cause we  are  bound  to  it  by  so  many  associations 
and  traditions;  or  we  may  value  it  because  of 
our  pride  in  its  greatness.  And  he  found  the 
greatness  of  Harvard  to  lie,  as  he  put  it,  in  her 
being  "a  nursery  for  independent  and  lonely 
thinkers."  Speaking  of  those  who,  like  himself, 
did  not  belong  to  the  Harvard  family  in  the  nar- 
rower or  more  clannish  sense,  he  said: 

"They  come  from  the  remotest  outskirts  of 
our  country,  without  introductions,  without  school 
affiliations;  special  students,  scientific  students, 
graduate  students,  poor  students  of  the  college, 
who  make  their  living  as  they  go.  They  hover 
in  the  background  on  days  when   the  crimson 


174    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

color  is  most  in  evidence,  but  they  nevertheless 
are  intoxicated  and  exultant  with  the  nourish- 
ment they  find  here.  .  .  .  When  they  come  to 
Harvard,  it  is  not  primarily  because  she  is  a 
club.  It  is  because  they  have  heard  of  her 
persistently  atomistic  constitution,  of  her  toler- 
ance of  exceptionality  and  eccentricity,  of  her 
devotion  to  the  principles  of  individual  voca- 
tion and  choice.  .  .  .  Thoughts  are  the  precious 
seeds  of  which  our  universities  should  be  the 
botanical  gardens.  Beware  when  God  lets  loose 
a  thinker  on  the  world — either  Carlyle  or  Emer- 
son said  that — for  all  things  then  have  to  rear- 
range themselves.  But  the  thinkers  in  their 
youth  are  almost  always  very  lonely  creatures. 
'Alone  the  great  sun  rises  and  alone  spring  the 
great  streams.'  The  university  most  worthy  of 
rational  admiration  is  that  one  in  which  your 
lonely  thinker  can  feel  himself  least  lonely,  most 
positively  furthered,  and  most  richly  fed." 

There  is  no  lover  of  Harvard  who  would  not 
have  Harvard  be  and  remain  deserving  of  such 
regard.  There  is  no  lover  of  any  university  who 
would  not  have  his  university  cultivate  and 
treasure  this  spirit,  as  the  quintessence  of  liberal 
education.  There  is  no  true  lover  of  America  or 
of  mankind  who  would  not  have  this  spirit  dif- 


UNIVERSITY  AND   INDIVIDUAL       175 

fused  whether  by  the  university  or  any  other 
educational  agency.  It  is  the  very  savor  of  the 
salt  of  emancipation  and  liberty. 

These  are  the  qualities  of  mind  in  which  true 
individualism  is  rooted:  originality  and  indepen- 
dence, both  in  judgment  and  in  imagination;  a 
power  to  distinguish  between  knowledge  and 
opinion,  belief  or  information;  a  recognition  of 
the  limits  and  degrees  of  knowledge;  a  love  of 
knowledge  for  its  own  sake;  and  a  spirit  of  tol- 
erant fellowship  with  all  who  love  knowledge, 
whatever  be  the  particular  opinion  that  they 
hold.  Only  that  which  threatens  these  qualities 
of  mind  really  threatens  individualism.  All  else 
is  external,  of  the  body  and  the  mechanism,  not  of 
the  soul.  So  long  as  these  qualities  are  fostered 
and  diffused  we  need  not  fear  whatever  of  dis- 
ciplined will  or  of  institutional  organization  may 
be  necessary  to  carry  forward  the  great  designs 
of  the  national  and  collective  life. 


X 

EDUCATION  FOR  FREEDOM 

IT  is  unnecessary  in  these  days  to  justify  educa- 
tion. If  there  is  any  single  idea  about  educa- 
tion that  is  now  generally  accepted,  it  is  the  idea 
that  education  is  useful  to  the  individual  and  im- 
perative for  the  community.  We  measure  the 
civilization  of  any  nation  or  section  by  the  test 
of  literacy,  or  by  the  educational  facilities  that 
are  open  to  its  people.  Wherever  democratic 
political  ideals  have  come  to  prevail,  it  is  a  recog- 
nized duty  of  the  state  to  provide  education 
freely  for  all,  in  at  least  the  rudiments  of  knowl- 
edge. In  our  own  country  we  have  virtually 
come  to  believe  that  mere  poverty  should  not  be 
allowed  to  stand  in  the  way  of  even  a  college  or 
university  training  for  any  individual  who  can 
demonstrate  his  capacity  and  ambition.  Wherever 
high  industrial  or  professional  ideals  prevail,  the 
importance  of  a  prolonged  and  thorough  train- 
ing in  engineering,  law,  or  medicine  is  no  longer 
doubted.    And  wherever  democratic  social  ideals 

prevail,  as  notably  in  this  country,  it  is  clearly 

176 


EDUCATION  FOR  FREEDOM    177 

recognized  that  education  is  the  great  equalizer, 
the  means  of  compensating  for  the  handicaps  of 
birth  or  wealth,  and  of  extending  to  all  alike  an 
opportunity  of  going  as  far  in  power,  happiness 
and  dignity  as  native  capacity  will  permit. 

So  far  we  must  all  be  in  hearty  agreement.  It 
is  because  every  one  believes  in  education  in  at 
least  these  aspects  that  so  great  a  number  of 
flourishing  institutions  enjoy  the  support  and 
loyalty  of  the  state  or  of  private  friends  and 
benefactors.  I  do  not  propose  to  prove  these 
things  that  require  no  proof.  I  want  to  confine 
my  efforts  to  the  defense  of  an  idea  that  is  in 
some  danger  of  being  forgotten.  I  refer  to  the 
idea  of  what  is  sometimes  called  liberal  education. 

Whoever  broadly  surveys  the  history,  of  ed- 
ucation will  see  that,  at  the  same  time  that 
education  has  been  more  widely  diffused  and  has 
gained  a  stronger  support  from  public  opinion 
and  from  the  state,  it  has  come  to  mean  some- 
thing narrower  than  it  once  meant.  The  more 
clearly  we  have  recognized  that  education  is 
useful  and  necessary,  the  more  narrowly  have 
we  come  to  insist  upon  its  usefulness  and  neces- 
sity, and  to  be  suspicious  of  any  education  the 
usefulness  and  necessity  of  which  are  not  ap- 
parent.   At  the  same  time  that  the  average  man 


178    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

has  come  to  be  the  friend  and  beneficiary  of 
education,  education  has  come  to  be  the  creature 
of  the  average  man,  and  to  reflect  his  characteris- 
tic standards  and  point  of  view.  The  danger  is 
that,  while  everybody  may  become  educated  in  a 
certain  practical  or  vulgar  sense,  nobody  will  be 
educated  in  that  other  and  less  obvious  sense  in 
which  the  privileged  class  was  once  educated. 
There  is  danger,  in  short,  that  the  very  same 
forces  of  opinion  that  make  it  possible  that  every- 
body should  be  usefully  educated  should  pre- 
vent anybody  from  being  liberally  educated. 

Let  me  illustrate  the  tendency  which  I  speak 
of  by  referring  to  the  choice  of  studies  in  colleges 
where  there  is  freedom  of  election.  Even  in  the 
Eastern  colleges  with  which  I  am  most  familiar, 
colleges  such  as  Harvard  and  Princeton,  where, 
whether  rightly  or  wrongly,  the  older  humanistic 
traditions  are  supposed  to  be  especially  strong, 
the  most  notable  feature  of  student  election  is 
the  large  resort  to  economics.  I  have  not  the 
least  inclination  to  disparage  the  subject.  I  do 
not  even  feel  sure  that  the  tendency  will  not 
turn  out  in  the  end  to  have  been  a  wholesome 
one.  But  the  significant  thing  and,  I  suspect,  the 
ominous  thing  is  the  motive  which  leads  the 
average  student  to  make  such  a  choice.    It  isn't 


EDUCATION  FOR  FREEDOM    179 

that  he  is  especially  interested  in  the  solution 
of  economic  problems.  He  may  and  often  does 
find  the  subject  dull  and  unilluminating.  But  he 
is  usually  going  to  be  either  a  business  man  or  a 
lawyer,  and  he  has  heard  that  economics  has 
something  to  do  with  business  and  law.  He 
doesn't  know  that  this  is  the  case  or  in  the  least 
understand  the  matter.  Indeed,  the  authorities 
of  the  Harvard  Law  School  explicitly  discourage 
men  from  attempting  in  any  way  to  anticipate 
their  professional  studies  in  college.  But  the 
average  undergraduate  I  speak  of  has  somehow 
got  it  into  his  head  that  the  study  of  economics  is 
a  kind  of  preliminary  study  of  business  or  law. 
And  so  he  chooses  it;  which  proves,  at  any  rate, 
what  he  is  looking  for,  what  idea  he  has  of  a  col- 
lege education.  He  is  supposing  that  the  thing 
to  do  in  college  is  to  acquire  the  tools  of  some 
trade.  Thus  the  college  tends  to  acquire  the 
spirit  and  tone  of  a  trade-school. 

Another  indication  of  the  same  tendency  is 
the  fact,  which  I  suppose  to  be  generally  true, 
that  the  part  of  our  State  universities  that  is 
least  vigorous  is  usually  the  college,  or  depart- 
ment of  liberal  arts.  If  this  is  true,  then  it  shows 
that  those  who  support  higher  education,  in 
this  case  the  citizens  of  a  State,  believe  in  it 


180    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

chiefly  as  a  means  of  training  farmers,  doctors, 
lawyers,  teachers,  stenographers,  housekeepers, 
and  engineers. 

Now,  it  was  once  supposed  that  it  was  the 
most  indispensable  part  of  higher  education  to 
train,  or  rather  to  develop  and  cultivate,  men 
and  women.  They  were  taught  Latin,  Greek, 
mathematics,  history,  literature,  and  philosophy, 
not  with  the  idea  that  they  could  use  these  things 
in  earning  a  living,  but  with  the  idea  that  they 
were  good  for  the  soul.  Latin  and  Greek,  for 
example,  are  not  any  less  useful  than  they  used 
to  be.  The  difference  is  that  we  are  now  more 
anxious  that  everything  should  be  useful.  Once 
it  was  thought  that  a  trained  and  well-stored 
mind,  a  free  imagination,  an  acquaintance  with 
the  past  and  with  its  triumphs  and  its  heroes, 
were  somehow  great  and  good  things  of  them- 
selves that  went  to  make  a  full  and  noble  life. 
Such  a  life  was  open  only  to  the  privileged  few; 
but  the  important  thing  is  that  it  was  regarded 
as  a  privilege.  Now  that  it  may  so  much  more 
easily  be  attained,  it  seems  to  have  lost  its  value; 
and  apprenticeship  to  a  trade,  once  thought  to 
be  a  disagreeable  necessity,  marks  the  limit  of 
aspiration.  Concerned  to  assert  the  dignity  of 
labor,  the  modern  world  seems  somehow  to  be 


EDUCATION  FOR  FREEDOM    181 

assuming  that  there  is  nothing  dignified  in  life 
except  doing  one's  job  or  getting  ready  for  it. 

A  student  who  called  upon  me  the  other  day 
gave  me  a  new  and  I  should  say  ultramodern 
view  of  the  value  of  the  old  humanistic  studies. 
Having  taken  a  chair  near  my  desk,  and  cleared 
his  throat,  he  launched  the  conversation  by  say- 
ing: "Professor,  may  I  ask  what  you  think  of 
Emerson  ?"  This  may  seem  somewhat  abrupt. 
But  we  who  teach  philosophy  are  not  surprised 
at  any  question;  at  any  rate,  I  answered  the  in- 
quiring student  as  best  I  could.  Whereupon  he 
came  back  at  me  with  more  of  the  same  kind. 
What  did  I  think  of  Carlyle,  of  Tennyson?  But 
there  is  a  limit  even  to  a  philosopher's  simple 
good  faith.  I  must  have  betrayed .  some  im- 
patience or  suspicion.  Whereupon  he  finally  con- 
fessed to  me  that  he  was  at  Harvard  to  learn  the 
art  of  salesmanship.  He  was  particularly  in- 
terested in  the  sale  of  aluminum  cooking  utensils. 
Some  one  had  told  him  that  the  thing  to  do  was 
to  engage  your  unsuspecting  victim  in  general 
conversation  on  some  theme  remote  from  the 
object  of  your  sinister  design.  In  this  way  you 
gained  his  confidence.  So  he  had  come  to  Har- 
vard to  acquire  conversational  resources.  It  was 
evident  that  he  believed  in  higher  education.     He 


182     THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

could  see  the  use  of  it.  He  could  measure  the 
value  of  poetry  in  terms  of  tangible  frying-pans 
and  tea-pots.  He  could  even  see  a  use  in  per- 
sonal intercourse  with  his  professors,  since  it 
might  create  a  pretext  for  conversational  prac- 
tise. 

So  it  appears  that  there  is  a  chance  for  liberal 
studies  even  in  a  most  severely  utilitarian  pro- 
gram !  But  do  they  need  such  a  utilitarian  justi- 
fication? Are  we  to  accept  such  a  standard? 
Or  have  liberal  studies  a  value  peculiar  to  them- 
selves which  we  are  in  danger  of  losing  if  liberal 
studies  decay?  I  admit  that  I  am  a  partisan  in 
the  matter.  If  all  studies  were  compelled  to 
prove  their  utility,  philosophy  would  have  to  go 
by  the  board.  I  do  not  commend  it  to  any  one 
as  a  means  of  livelihood.  But  from  a  partisan 
you  will  at  least  get  one  side  of  the  matter,  and 
in  this  case  the  other  side  has  advocates  enough. 

Now  what  is  this  unique  and  indispensable 
value  that  belongs  to  a  liberal  education?  I 
should  emphasize  first  the  fact  that  liberal  educa- 
tion brings  us  abreast  of  progress.  If  we  are  to 
accept  the  theory  of  Weismann  and  deny  the 
inheritance  of  acquired  characters,  we  must  sup- 
pose that  progress  takes  place,  not  through  the 


EDUCATION  FOR  FREEDOM    1S3 

line  of  descent,  but  through  the  continuity  of 
tradition  and  environment.  By  heredity  we 
transmit  to  our  children  approximately  what 
our  parents  transmitted  to  us.  Our  children 
will  stand  at  birth  where  we  stood  at  birth,  with 
the  same  native  capacities  and  family  trails. 
In  the  course  of  our  lives  we  have  acquired 
much — new  ideas,  new  forms  of  skill,  new  habits 
of  mind.  But  these  our  children  will  not  in- 
herit. Though  we  may,  and  in  some  respects 
certainly  shall  exceed  the  attainments  of  our 
parents,  what  we  have  gained  cannot  be  trans- 
mitted simply  by  heredity. 

Is  there,  then,  no  s.ense  in  which  our  children 
profit  by  what  we  have  learned,  and  so  enjoy 
advantages  superior  to  those  which  belonged  to 
us  as  the  members  of  an  earlier  generation  ?  Cer- 
tainly, and  here  lies  the  point.  Our  children  will 
be  surrounded  from  birth  onward  by  a  different 
and  more  advanced  environment.  The  most  im- 
portant part  of  that  environment  during  the 
earlier  and  more  plastic  years  will  be  ourselves, 
with  the  new  things  we  have  learned.  If  our 
children  do  not  learn  more,  there  is  at  least  more 
to  learn  than  there  was  when  we  were  children. 
The  parental  type  which  is  imitated  by  the  chil- 
dren of  to-day  contains  novelties  which  distin- 


1 84    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

guish  it  from  the  grand-parental  type  which  was 
imitated  by  the  children  of  yesterday.  But  the 
family  is  by  no  means  the  only  medium  of  imita- 
tion. Playmates,  teachers,  newspapers,  employ- 
ers, ministers,  poets,  all  represent  and  typify  the 
culture  of  to-day — -and  imprint  its  characteristic 
and  novel  form  upon  the  growing  and  receptive 
minds  of  the  younger  generation. 

We  must,  of  course,  get  rid  of  the  notion  of 
generation  succeeding  generation,  like  the  regi- 
ments of  a  marching  army.  Generations  overlap. 
There  are  innumerably  many  of  them  alive  to- 
gether. There  are  those  who  are  coming  of  age 
to-day,  those  who  came  of  age  yesterday,  and 
those  who  will  come  of  age  to-morrow.  If  one 
cared  to  reckon  in  terms  of  hours,  minutes  and 
seconds,  one  would  readily  see  that  the  number 
of  different  contemporary  generations  exceeds  our 
power  to  count.  Every  individual  is  born  into 
a  world  in  which  a  certain  type  is  growing  to 
be  old-fashioned,  another  dominates,  and  a  third 
is  regarded  as  advanced  and  radical.  And  there 
are  indefinitely  many  degrees  between.  To-day 
horses  are  slightly  old-fashioned,  automobiles 
common  and  air-ships  novel.  This  illustrates 
the  present  phase  of  civilization.  A  child  that 
is  just  now  most  impressionable  is  having  this 


EDUCATION  FOR  FREEDOM    185 

phase  impressed  upon  him.  He  will  become  used 
or  assimilated  to  it,  play  his  part  in  the  inven- 
tion and  innovation  which  modify  it,  and  live 
to  see  his  children  reared  in  a  world  in  which 
horses  are  antiquated,  automobiles  old-fashioned, 
air-ships  common,  and  I  know  not  what,  novel. 

This,  then,  is  the  way  that  society  moves. 
Strictly  speaking,  there  is  no  such  thing  as  a 
modern  infant;  merely  as  infant  he  does  not  rep- 
resent one  time  any  more  than  another.  But 
there  is  such  a  thing  as  a  modern  world.  And 
it  is  going  to  make  a  lot  of  difference  to  the 
hapless  infant  what  world  he  is  born  into.  The 
modern  world  stands  ready  to  seize  upon  him 
and  put  the  imprint  of  modernity  upon  him. 
And  he  will  be,  when  the  world  gets  through  with 
him,  a  modern  man.  Progress  is  possible  because 
the  past  holds  over  into  the  present  in  the  shape 
of  institutions,  monuments,  records,  customs,  and 
in  the  shape  of  an  existing  and  slowly  changing 
social  type.  An  individual  may  profit  by  this 
progress,  and  thus  enjoy  an  unearned  increment, 
by  virtue  of  growing  up  in  the  midst  of  these 
things,  imitating  them,  learning  them,  entering 
into  and  becoming  one  with  them.  His  advan- 
tage is  not  one  of  inborn  capacity,  but  one  of 
place  in  history. 


186    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

But  to  return  to  our  main  point — the  impor- 
tance of  liberal  studies.  We  may  now  say  that 
their  importance  lies  first  of  all  in  their  enabling 
an  individual  to  enjoy  to  the  full  all  the  advantages 
of  his  place  in  history.  They  enable  an  individual 
to  take  possession  of  the  inheritance  that  has  been 
accumulated  for  him. 

If  what  I  have  said  is  true,  it  ought  to  follow 
that  in  proportion  as  a  man  is  untutored  he  is 
not  a  man  of  his  age  at  all.  He  might  just  as 
well  have  been  born  a  thousand  years  ago.  Sup- 
pose a  child  to  be  kept  altogether  from  educative 
influences,  simply  fed  and  kept  alive,  and  he 
would  not  belong  to  the  present  any  more  than 
to  the  past.  He  would  have  no  place  in  his- 
tory at  all.  It  would  be  as  absurd  to  speak  of 
him  as  modern  as  it  would  be  to  speak  of  the 
modern  whale  or  the  modern  ant.  While  no  in- 
dividual has  ever  been  cut  off  altogether  from  the 
spirit  of  his  age,  I  think  any  one  will  readily  agree 
that  this  is  in  a  large  measure  true  of  millions 
of  our  fellow  men.  And  one  will  agree,  I  think, 
that,  in  principle,  being  a  man  of  the  age  depends 
upon  the  enjoyment  of  educational  opportunities. 
Illiteracy,  grinding  toil,  rigid  customs,  physical 
remoteness,  lack  of  facilities  for  communication, 
imply  stagnation  in  a  primitive,  monotonous  and 


EDUCATION  FOR   FREEDOM  187 

timeless  animal  existence.  There  are  millions  of 
peasants  and  laborers  who  enter  upon  a  mechan- 
ical routine  of  life,  driven  by  the  necessity  of 
livelihood,  without  ever  having  had  a  chance  to 
acquire  and  utilize  the  accumulations  of  the  past. 
They  live  and  die  as  genuinely  cut  off  and  dis- 
inherited from  the  history  of  civilization  as  their 
cattle  or  beasts  of  burden. 

There  is  another  class  who  acquire  the  fashions 
of  their  age,  but  nothing  more.  Such  men  get 
just  so  much  of  the  life  of  their  times  as  can  be 
derived  from  superficial  contact  and  external 
imitation.  They  become  men  of  the  modern 
age  in  so  far  as  this  consists  in  using  current 
slang,  singing  topical  songs,  wearing  clothes  of  a 
conventional  pattern  and  being  familiar  with  the 
latest  material  conveniences.  Externally,  they 
are  up  to  date;  internally,  they  are  simply  hu- 
man animals  belonging  to  no  time,  and  none  the 
richer  by  the  accident  of  being  born  here  and 
now. 

Viewed  in  the  light  of  these  facts,  a  liberal 
education  should  be  regarded  as  the  means  of 
introducing  the  younger  generation  to  its  birth- 
right, a  sort  of  visiting  the  ancestral  estate  be- 
fore taking  possession.  The  best  example  of 
what  I  mean  is  afforded  by  historical  studies, 


188    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

not  only  history  in  the  usual  sense  of  political 
history,  but  history  as  a  record  of  man's  past 
achievements  in  art,  science,  industry,  and  relig- 
ion. The  study  of  history  in  this  sense  is  like 
pausing  on  one's  journey  to  take  a  long  look 
backward,  so  that  one  may  see  the  direction  of 
one's  way,  a«nd  realize  vividly  the  place  one  has 
reached.  And  through  history,  one  takes  over 
the  past  and  makes  it  one's  own.  One  becomes 
so  connected  with  the  past,  that  one  can  be  said 
to  carry  it  on,  or  to  begin  where  it  leaves  off. 
It  is  like  running  a  relay  race;  when  one's  turn 
comes,  one  has  to  touch  the  last  runner  in  order 
to  take  up  the  race  in  his  stead,  inheriting  at  the 
start  the  advantage  that  he  and  others  before 
him  have  earned.  Historical  studies  are  a  sort 
of  touching  of  the  past  by  which  one  claims  one's 
place  in  the  race,  and  runs  not  in  the  first  but  in 
the  third  or  fourth  millennium. 

The  first  characteristic  of  liberal  studies,  then, 
is  their  affording  a  retrospect  of  civilization, 
giving  the  individual  an  opportunity  to  claim 
the  past  of  mankind  as  his  own  past,  and  start- 
ing him  abreast  of  his  times.  The  extent  to  which 
one  values  a  liberal  education  will  so  far  depend 
upon  the  extent  to  which  one  wishes  to  claim 
one's  title  to  the  accumulated  learning,  experience 


EDUCATION  FOR  FREEDOM    189 

and  achievements  of  man,  or  is  satisfied  to  be 
disinherited — a  person  of  no  time,  enjoying,  no 
point  of  vantage  in  the  scale  of  progress. 

Let  us  turn  to  a  second  characteristic.  I  have 
been  using  the  phrase  "liberal  studies"  without 
explaining  the  meaning  of  the  word  "liberal." 
It  means  "free"  or  "generous."  But  why  does 
one  speak  of  studies  as  free,  or  generous?  In 
contrast,  I  take  it,  with  studies  in  which  one  is 
constrained  by  routine,  or  by  the  need  of  liveli- 
hood. But  there  is  a  more  positive  sense  in  which 
certain  studies  may  be  said  to  be  free:  in  the 
sense,  namely,  of  making  free,  or  of  increasing 
freedom. 

It  seems  fairly  obvious  that  freedom  is  somehow 
proportional  to  the  range  of  alternatives  from 
which  we  may  choose.  If,  as  we  say,  "we  have 
no  other  alternative,"  then  what  we  do  is  the 
only  thing  we  can  do  and  is,  therefore,  necessary. 
Similarly,  we  say  of  a  man,  "He  never  had  a 
chance  to  do  otherwise,"  and  find  in  that  fact 
evidence  of  lack  of  freedom.  Now,  there  is  noth- 
ing that  limits  and  reduces  freedom  so  commonly 
as  ignorance.  In  order  that  things  shall  be  real 
alternatives  for  our  choice,  we  have  got  to  know 
about  them;  the  things  we  have  never  heard  of 


i  go    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

are  the  things  we  have  never  had  the  least  chance 
of  doing.  It  follows  that  a  wide  range  of  knowl- 
edge— knowing  about  a  great  many  things — 
multiplies  our  freedom  and  increases  the  extent 
to  which  we  may  be  said  to  do  what  we  really 
want  rather  than  what  circumstance  dictates. 
What  civilization  makes  possible,  education  may 
make  real;  for  liberal  education  here  again  is 
what  really  brings  the  individual  and  the  civiliza- 
tion of  his  age  together.  Viewed  in  this  light, 
liberal  education  is  a  wide  survey  of  the  field  of 
life,  a  broad  outlook  over  all  its  manifold  possi- 
bilities, so  that  one  may  choose  in  the  presence 
of  all  the  varied  possibilities. 

The  most  far-reaching  choice  that  a  man 
makes  is  the  choice  of  work.  To  a  very  large 
extent,  far  more  so  than  we  ordinarily  under- 
stand, the  work  dictates  to  the  man,  when  once 
he  undertakes  it.  A  job  is  a  hard  master.  There 
is  just  one  moment  at  which  the  job  is  not  the 
master,  and  that  is  the  moment  at  which  one 
chooses  the  job.  Hence,  if  one  never  deliberately 
chooses  the  job,  but  simply  grows  up  to  it,  or  falls 
into  it  by  accident,  or  is  thrust  into  it  by  others 
or  by  the  pressure  of  need,  then  one  loses  forever 
that  moment  of  freedom.  There  is  a  sense  in 
which  everybody  has  a  job  sooner  or  later.     It 


EDUCATION  FOR  FREEDOM    191 

need  not  be  one  of  the  regularly  defined  profes- 
sions or  trades.  But  one  finds  a  place  somewhere 
in  the  world's  work,  and  once  in  the  place,  the 
work  is,  as  we  say,  "cut  out"  for  one.  If  one  is 
to  be  free,  then,  one  must  be  conscious,  alive  to 
the  situation,  and  in  some  measure,  at  least, 
choose  for  oneself  the  work  that  one  shall  do. 
And  the  more  completely  one  is  aware  of  the 
varied  possibilities  which  life  affords,  the  freer 
is  one's  choice. 

Liberal  education,  then,  is  the  sort  of  educa- 
tion that  helps  one  to  choose  one's  work  freely, 
rather  than  the  kind  of  education  that  fits  one 
for  one's  chosen  work.  The  traditional  view  that 
one's  college  days  are  the  days  in  which  one 
should  be  deciding  what  to  do  is  essentially  cor- 
rect. And  the  studies  which  one  pursues  should 
be  primarily  those  which  present  the  alternatives 
in  all  their  multiplicity  and  variety.  They  should 
enable  one  for  the  moment  to  take  a  general 
view  before  one  descends  into  the  plain  and  takes 
one's  place.  For  in  the  plain,  such  general  views 
are  rare,  and  it  is  harder  to  profit  by  them 
even  when  one  has  them.  "It  is  not  the  inten- 
tion of  Nature,"  says  Emerson,  "that  one  should 
live  by  general  views.  We  fetch  fire  and  water, 
run  about  all  day  among  the  shops,  and  markets, 


iQ2     THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

and  get  our  clothes  and  shoes  made  and  mended, 
and  are  the  victims  of  these  details,  and  once  in 
a  fortnight  we  arrive,  perhaps,  at  a  rational 
moment."  The  period  of  liberal  education  should 
be  the  greatest  of  such  rational  moments,  the 
lucid  interval,  when  we  look  all  about,  spy  out 
the  promised  land,  and  are  for  once  free. 

It  follows  that  this  period  of  liberal  study  may 
well  be  a  period  of  desultory  attention,  of  a  sort 
of  spiritual  idling  and  irresponsibility,  when  ac- 
cording to  the  standards  of  efficiency,  time  is 
wasted.  To  look  back  upon  one's  college  days 
from  the  standpoint  of  an  established  position 
in  the  world,  and  say:  "My  college  studies  have 
not  helped  me  to  succeed,"  is  to  betray  an  ut- 
terly wrong  notion  as  to  the  essential  purpose 
of  college  education.  It  was  their  essential 
purpose  not  to  prepare  one  to  succeed  in  the 
practise  of  law,  for  example,  but  to  help  one  to 
decide  wisely  and  freely  whether  to  aspire  to  such 
success.  Consulting  the  time-table  does  not 
help  you  to  catch  your  train,  but  it  does  play  an 
important  part  in  your  deciding  what  train  to 
catch.  Among  other  things,  it  shows  you  what 
trains  there  are  to  catch,  and  the  destinations  to 
which  they  are  likely  to  carry  you. 

It  is  clear  that  one  cannot  judge  the  value  of 


EDUCATION  FOR  FREEDOM  193 

a  liberal  education  by  the  standards  of  success 
or  efficiency.  It  is  quite  essential  to  its  value 
that  one  should  hold  such  standards  in  abeyance. 
It  requires  an  attitude  quite  different  from  that 
which  is  required  by  the  actual  contest  of  life, 
as  different  as  the  attitude  of  the  general  who 
plans  a  campaign  is  different  from  his  attitude 
when  he  executes  it.  Once  the  forward  move- 
ment is  on,  what  is  required  is  courage,  persis- 
tence, skill,  patience,  and  single-minded  devo- 
tion to  the  matter  in  hand.  These  are  the  vir- 
tues of  action.  But  other  virtues  are  required 
in  the  time  of  deliberation  and  counsel,  such 
virtues  as  imagination,  breadth  of  view,  and 
statesmanship.  To  profit  most  by  liberal  study 
or  to  acquire  that  which  is  peculiarly  valuable  in 
it,  one  needs  freedom  and  elasticity  of  mind,  the 
proverbial  "generosity  of  youth,"  openness  of 
mind,  quickness  of  response,  a  toleration  of  the 
most  ancient  heresies,  and  an  eager  interest  in 
the  most  radical  novelties;  so  that  for  once, 
albeit  for  only  a  fleeting  moment,  all  things  shall 
have  presented  themselves  and  had  their  chance 
of  acceptance  or  rejection. 

There  are  few  branches  of  knowledge  that 
may  not  be  liberal  studies  if  only  they  be  taken 
in  this  spirit.    What  I  have  said  does  not  argue 


194    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

for  a  narrowing  of  the  curriculum  to  the  study 
of  the  ancient  languages.  On  the  contrary,  as 
William  James  has  said,  "we  must  shake  the  old 
double  reefs  out  of  the  canvas  into  the  wind  and 
sunshine,  and  let  in  every  modern  subject,  sure 
that  any  subject  will  prove  humanistic,  if  its 
setting  be  kept  only  wide  enough."  For  a  liberal 
education  means,  primarily,  a  retrospect  of  the 
past,  an  assimilation  of  the  civilization  of  one's 
age,  and  a  wide  acquaintance  with  the  possibilities 
of  life,  in  order  that  choice  of  vocation  may  be 
wise  and  free. 


XI 

THE  USELESS  VIRTUES 

IF  all  the  good  advice  that  has  ever  been  given 
were  to  be  brought  together  and  compared, 
it  would  probably  be  discovered  that  every  piece 
could  be  matched  with  a  contrary  piece  given 
by  somebody  else.  The  world's  practical  wis- 
dom does  not  form  a  consistent  system.  No  one 
man  could  possibly  believe  all  of  it  at  the  same 
time.  For  example,  there  is  equally  good  author- 
ity for  believing  that  woman  is  the  tyrant  of 
man,  and  for  believing  that  she  is  his  puppet. 
Victor  Hugo  tells  us  that  "men  are  women's 
playthings;  woman  is  the  devil's";  while  an- 
other Frenchman,  Michelet,  tells  us  that  "nearly 
every  folly  committed  by  woman  is  born  of  the 
stupidity  or  evil  influence  of  man."  But  it  may 
be  argued  that  in  this  case  it  is  the  very  paradox 
itself  which  is  proverbial.  Take  the  less  familiar 
example  of  self-consciousness.  There  are  the 
moralists  whose  primary  maxim  is  the  Delphic 

195 


196    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

oracle,  "Know  thyself."  "We  should  every 
night  call  ourselves  to  an  account/'  says  Seneca. 
"What  infirmity  have  I  mastered  to-day?  What 
passion  opposed?  What  temptation  resisted? 
What  virtue  acquired?  Our  vices  will  abate  of 
themselves  if  they  be  brought  every  day  to  the 
shrift."  This  is  accounted  wise,  and  carries  con- 
viction to  conscience.  But  so  does  the  contrary 
preaching  of  Carlyle,  with  his  tirade  against  the 
"unhealthy  state  of  self -sentience,  self-survey,  pre- 
cursor and  prognostic  of  still  worse  health." 

It  is  painful  to  contemplate  the  volume  of 
discordant  advice  that  is  poured  from  pulpits, 
platforms  and  editorial  columns  into  the  ears  of 
that  hapless  reprobate,  the  plain  man.  It  is 
perhaps  fortunate  that  so  little  of  it  is  followed, 
for  it  is  always  one-sided.  It  is  characteristic 
of  most  advice  and  exhortation  that  it  is  only  a 
part  of  the  truth.  It  is  an  exaggeration  of  that 
particular  half-truth  which  the  exhorter  thinks 
is  timely,  and  which  he  believes  is  going  to  be 
offset  by  contrary  influences.  It  is  a  push  against 
some  existing  overtendency,  an  attempt  to  stem 
some  tide  that  is  running  too  high,  in  the  hope 
of  securing  that  balance  and  moderation  in  which 
right  conduct  always  consists. 

This  is  my  apology  for  appearing  with  an  ex- 


THE   USELESS  VIRTUES  197 

hortation  which  on  the  face  of  it  may  appear  to 
be  strained  or  even  absurd.  For  I  propose,  in  a 
sense,  to  preach  against  efficiency  or  success.  I  do 
so  not  because  I  do  not  see  their  importance,  but 
because  I  suspect  that  my  reader  will  already 
know  their  importance  well  enough,  and  pos- 
sibly even  too  well.  Or  if  he  does  not,  there  are 
many  who  can  proclaim  that  importance  more 
eloquently  than  I.  There  is  something  abroad, 
an  irresistible  social  impulse,  which  is  tending 
to  promote  the  useful  virtues,  to  encourage  thrift, 
initiative,  industry,  co-operation,  civic  pride,  and 
all  those  qualities  of  mind  and  will  that  make 
communities  sound  and  prosperous.  But  were 
I  to  join  the  general  praise  of  efficiency  and  utility, 
I  should  be  seeing  only  half  the  truth.  And  I 
know  that,  if  I  were  to  follow  the  line  of  less  re- 
sistance and  urge  what  everybody  already  wants, 
I  should  be  forfeiting  the  greater  opportunity  of 
speaking  a  word  for  that  half-truth  which  has 
difficulty  in  getting  a  hearing  and  needs  the 
strong  support  of  every  teacher  or  preacher.  I 
want,  therefore,  to  make  out  as  strong  a  case  as 
I  can  for  what  may  in  a  sense  be  called  the  useless 
virtues,  for  those  qualities  of  mind  and  will  which 
cannot  be  measured  by  the  standard  of  efficiency 
— whose  very  value,  indeed,  is  inseparable  from 


198    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

the  fact  that  they  do  not  immediately  contrib- 
ute to  practical  success. 

First  of  all  it  is  necessary  that  we  should  re- 
flect upon  the  meaning  of  a  word  that  is  perpet- 
ually in  our  mouths — the  word  "practical."  It 
is  not  customary  for  us  to  reflect  upon  its  meaning 
at  all.  It  is  supposed  to  express  a  finality.  To 
call  a  thing  practical  is  to  praise  it;  to  call  it  un- 
practical is  to  condemn  it.  It  never  occurs  to 
us  as  a  rule  that  practicality  is  a  special  kind  of 
value.  If  that  did  occur  to  us,  then,  of  course, 
we  should  be  in  the  position  of  admitting  that 
there  is  at  least  one  other  kind  of  value  from  which 
it  may  be  distinguished.  And  this  would  be 
equivalent  to  admitting  that  when  we  call  a 
thing  practical  or  unpractical  we  have  not,  as 
is  usually  assumed,  provided  sufficient  grounds 
for  approving  or  rejecting  it. 

Let  me  select  a  homely  example  which  will 
bring  out  what  appears  to  me  to  be  the  meaning 
of  practicality.  Suppose  a  man  to  be  driven  to 
the  roof  of  a  burning  building,  while  a  crowd  is 
gathered  below  to  offer  help  or  suggestions. 
Jones  shouts,  "Get  a  ladder!"  or  indicates  where 
one  may  be  had,  or  gets  one  himself.  Brown 
points  out  an  adjacent  roof  by  which  the  refugee 
may  pass  to  a  place  of  safety.     Several  Smiths 


THE  USELESS  VIRTUES  199 

fetch  a  blanket  and  hold  it  to  break  his  fall. 
Socrates  who  has  happened  by,  and  who  appears 
to  be  less  agitated  than  the  rest,  remarks  (largely 
to  himself,  for  he  can  find  few  to  listen  to  him): 
"I  wonder  what  the  man  really  wants.  He  ap- 
pears to  be  desperately  anxious  to  save  his  life. 
But  is  his  life  after  all  so  prodigiously  important 
as  to  warrant  all  this  excitement?  Has  he  good 
reasons  for  wishing  to  save  himself?  And  what 
a  poorly  organized  community  is  this,  where  such 
a  thing  should  be  allowed  to  occur!  Why  are 
buildings  not  fireproof?  What  carelessness  can 
have  started  the  fire?"  But  before  Socrates  can 
proceed  further  with  his  ruminations  he  is  roughly 
brushed  aside.  If  he  receives  any  consideration 
at  all  he  will  be  regarded  as  a  poor  lunatic,  or 
philosopher,  or  college  professor. 

Now,  which  among  these  men  is  the  practical 
man,  and  which  the  unpractical?  I  do  not  sup- 
pose that  there  can  be  the  slightest  doubt  in  any 
one's  mind.  The  Joneses,  the  Browns,  and  the 
Smiths  are  the  practical  men,  and  Socrates  (there 
is  rarely  even  one  such  in  any  crowd)  is  theoretical, 
academic,  a  creature  of  mere  intellect;  harmless 
enough  if  he  will  only  stay  at  home  and  write 
books  which  nobody  reads,  but  very  much  in 
the  way  when  there  is  something  to  be  done. 

But  what  is  the  precise  difference  between  the 


200    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

Joneses,  the  Browns,  and  the  Smiths  on  the  one 
hand,  and  Socrates  on  the  other?  It  appears  to 
me  that  it  comes  down  to  this.  The  practical 
men  accept  circumstances  as  they  find  them. 
They  take  it  for  granted  that  the  man  wants  to 
escape  from  the  roof;  and  they  regard  the  fire  as 
an  existing  fact  which  is  not,  for  the  moment  at 
least,  to  be  explained,  but  to  be  acted  on.  They 
do  not  go  behind  this  concrete  and  present  situa- 
tion, except  so  far  as  to  assume  on  the  victim's 
part  the  normal  instinct  of  self-preservation. 
Taking  these  things  for  granted,  without  con- 
sciously reflecting  upon  them  at  all,  they  can 
devote  all  their  faculties  and  energies  to  contriv- 
ing a  remedy.  In  so  far  as  their  minds  are  en- 
gaged at  all  they  will  be  bent  upon  rinding  the 
means  that  will  fit  the  situation.  In  this  way 
the  problem  is  enormously  simplified,  and  there 
is  strong  likelihood  of  a  prompt  and  effectual 
solution.  If  the  crowd  were  made  up  entirely  of 
Socrateses  pondering  all  the  whys  and  where- 
fores, life  would  be  lost  before  any  conclusions 
whatsoever  would  have  been  reached.  To  be 
practical,  in  short,  is  to  confine  one's  attention 
to  the  effectual  meeting  of  existing  emergencies. 
President  Cleveland  invented  a  phrase  which 
is  an  almost  perfect  expression  of  the  attitude  of 


THE  USELESS  VIRTUES  201 

practicality.  There  is  nothing  profound  about 
it,  nor  does  it  possess  any  striking  literary  merit; 
but  it  never  fails  to  appeal,  and  has  become  a 
part  of  our  common  speech,  so  thoroughly  does  it 
coincide  with  the  bias  of  common  sense.  He  once 
remarked,  as  every  one  knows:  "It  is  a  condi- 
tion, and  not  a  theory,  that  confronts  us."  I 
do  not  remember  what  condition  it  was  that 
confronted  us;  but  the  practical  man  is  always 
confronted  by  a  condition.  I  shall  suggest  pres- 
ently that  every  condition  does  in  truth  involve 
a  theory;  but  if  so,  the  practical  man  ignores  it. 
His  practicality  lies  in  confining  himself  to  find- 
ing an  act  which  will  meet  the  condition.  He 
has  a  family  which  must  be  supported,  or  an  in- 
dustrial plant  which  must  be  made  to  pay,  or 
an  examination  which  must  be  passed^  or  a  game 
which  must  be  won,  or  an  office  to  which  he  pro- 
poses to  be  elected.  His  problem  is  the  com- 
paratively narrow  and  simple  problem  of  finding 
the  instrument  to  fit  the  occasion  and  achieve 
the  result. 

As  a  nation,  we  are  commonly  accused  by  un- 
sympathetic Europeans  of  being  excessively  prac- 
tical. We  are  supposed  to  specialize  in  practi- 
cality. Thus,  when  England  wants  a  railroad 
system  reorganized  she  looks  to  America  for  a 


202     THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

manager,  and  when  Germany  wants  to  make  a  bet- 
ter record  in  the  Olympic  games  she  sends  to  Amer- 
ica for  a  trainer.  There  is  less  demand  in  Europe 
for  American  poets  and  musical  composers,  and, 
I  regret  to  say,  for  American  philosophers.  Now 
we  may  believe  that  this  reputation  is  not  de- 
served, or  we  may  glory  in  it.  But  in  either  case 
we  can  afford  at  least  to  see  just  what  it  means. 
Consider  for  a  moment  the  verdict  of  one  of 
our  harshest  critics,  Mr.  G.  Lowes  Dickinson, 
of  Cambridge  University.  "I  am  inclined  to 
think,"  he  says,  "that  the  real  end  which  Amer- 
icans set  before  themselves  is  Acceleration.  To 
be  always  moving,  and  always  moving  faster, 
that  they  think  is  the  beatific  life;  and  with  their 
happy  detachment  from  philosophy  and  specula- 
tion, they  are  not  troubled  by  the  question, 
Whither?  If  they  are  asked  by  Europeans,  as 
they  sometimes  are,  what  is  the  point  of  going 
so  fast?  their  only  feeling  is  one  of  genuine 
astonishment.  Why,  they  reply,  you  go  fast! 
And  what  more  can  be  said?"1 

Now  no  doubt  this  is  a  libel  upon  the  American 
people,  and  might  justly  be  resented.  Or  it 
might  perhaps  be  proved  that  Mr.  Dickinson's 
fellow  countrymen  are  just  as  guilty  in  intent  as 

1 A  Modem  Symposium,  pp.  104-105. 


THE   USELESS  VIRTUES  203 

we  are.  Perhaps  they  want  to  move  fast,  but, 
failing  to  do  it,  try  to  make  out  that  the  game 
isn't  worth  the  candle,  and  that  their  rival's  vic- 
tory is  hollow  and  fruitless;  as  a  man  who  saw 
that  he  was  losing  a  race  might  withdraw  and 
try  to  persuade  the  spectators  that  it  was  a 
very  childish  and  undignified  proceeding  anyhow. 
There  would  doubtless  be  a  dash  of  truth  in  such 
a  retort,  just  enough  to  enable  you  to  get  the 
laugh  on  the  other  fellow.  But  it  would  be  a 
shrewder  thing  to  detect  the  truth  in  the  criti- 
cism, learn  one's  fault,  correct  it,  and  leave  the 
critic  himself  to  stagnate  in  his  own  complacency. 
Now  Mr.  Dickinson's  criticism  brings  out 
cleverly  enough  the  meaning  of  that  practicality 
on  which  we  pride  ourselves,  and  which  we  hastily 
assume  to  be  an  absolute  standard.  Practicality 
means  skill,  energy,  speed,  quantity  of  perform- 
ance, without  reference  to  the  profitableness  of 
the  result.  Not  that  the  result  may  not  in  point 
of  fact  be  profitable;  the  question  simply  is  not 
raised.  The  profitableness  of  the  result  is  as- 
sumed from  the  fact  that  everybody  is  mad 
about  it.  As  the  popular  song  puts  it,  "every- 
body's doing  it."  Whatever  everybody  is  doing 
recommends  itself  without  further  justification. 
Whatever  everybody's  doing  is  "the  thing  to  do." 


204    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

A  man  is  willing  to  wear  anything  apparently, 
if  his  tailor  says,  "they're  wearing  them  that 
way."  So  we  eagerly  adopt  the  pursuits  that 
we  find  in  vogue,  and  apply  ourselves  to  making 
a  good  showing. 

Most  people,  perhaps,  appear  to  be  dividing 
their  energies  between  three  pursuits:  making 
money,  dancing,  and  playing  baseball  or  watch- 
ing some  one  else  play  it.  To  make  as  much 
money  as  possible,  to  dance  as  well  or  as  often  as 
possible,  and  to  defeat  your  opponent  in  sport, 
either  personally  or  vicariously  through  a  favorite 
team — these  tasks  absorb  the  energies  of  the 
typical  practical  man.  He  does  not  adopt  and 
follow  a  plan  of  life  by  conscious  reflection,  but 
he  is  constantly  in  a  current  of  life,  which  flows 
now  this  way  and  now  that,  and  sweeps  him  along 
with  it.  Or  the  practical  man  is  like  a  man  who 
finds  himself  in  a  great  throng  of  athletes  who 
are  matching  their  skill  and  speed  and  prowess 
against  one  another.  He  goes  in  for  this  or  that, 
spurred  by  emulation,  and  seeks  to  outstrip  his 
competitors  in  some  race  without  concerning  him- 
self with  the  direction  of  the  course  and  the  place 
in  which  he  will  find  himself  at  the  end  of  the  race. 

There  is  a  false  proverb  which  teaches  us  that 
whatever  is  worth  doing  is  worth  doing  well. 


THE  USELESS  VIRTUES  205 

I  call  it  false  because  it  is  so  evident  that  there 
are  some  things  which  are  only  worth  doing  pro- 
vided one  is  willing  to  do  them  ill.  It  is  a  part 
of  practical  wisdom  to  know  what  it  is  worth 
while  to  exert  oneself  about,  and  what  may  be 
done  in  a  spirit  of  playful  carelessness.  But  there 
is  a  more  popular  maxim  which  is  so  widely  ob- 
served that  it  is  never  formulated — the  maxim 
that  whatever  is  done  well  is  worth  doing.  This, 
I  take  it,  is  the  maxim  of  the  practical  man. 
Do  what  the  next  man  is  doing,  but  go  him  one 
better.  Make  a  record.  There  is  a  whole  code 
of  life  in  this  passion  for  records.  To  make  or 
hold  a  record  means  to  excel  everybody  else  in 
a  precisely  measurable  degree.  To  excel  every- 
body else  in  an  activity  in  which  everybody  else 
would  like  to  excel,  to  hold  the  most  coveted  record, 
this  would  represent  the  supreme  practical  suc- 
cess. 

We  should  now  be  sufficiently  clear  in  our 
minds  as  to  what  practicality  means.  But  it  is 
evident  that  our  critics  in  judging  us  to  be  a 
peculiarly  practical  people  mean  to  accuse  us  of 
a  fault,  and  we  shall  not  have  understood  the 
criticism  until  we  have  come  to  see  wherein  the 
fault  lies.    It  is  evident  that  Mr.  Dickinson,  for 


206    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

example,  means  to  convey  the  idea  that  this 
question,  Whither? — which  is  said  to  trouble  us 
so  little — is  an  important  question,  and  that  we 
are  making  a  serious  mistake  in  ignoring  it.  He 
would  mean,  I  think,  to  go  further,  and  assert 
that  this  question,  Whither?  is  the  most  impor- 
tant question. 

When  we  examine  the  matter  more  narrowly, 
it  appears  to  come  to  this.  The  very  same  in- 
stance of  successful  effort  may  be  glorious  or 
ridiculous,  according  as  the  result  is  itself  worth 
while  or  not.  I  remember  an  adventure  of  my 
own  that  is  in  point.  I  left  Cambridge  with  a 
friend  to  catch  a  six-o'clock  boat  for  Portland, 
Maine.  We  had  been  delayed  in  starting  and 
upon  consulting  our  watches  in  the  car  we  found 
that  unless  we  adopted  extraordinary  measures 
we  should  miss  the  boat.  So  we  leaped  from 
the  car  and  hailed  a  passing  cab.  We  bribed  the 
driver  to  whip  his  horse  into  a  gallop.  As  we 
approached  the  dock  we  saw  the  boat  moving. 
Jumping  from  the  cab  with  bags  in  hand,  we  ran 
down  the  dock  and  leaped  aboard,  flushed  with 
our  triumph.  We  had  exerted  ourselves  desper- 
ately; we  had  been  quick-witted  and  skilful,  and 
I  suspect  that  we  had  created  a  record.  We  had 
certainly  succeeded.  But  when  our  excitement 
and  breathlessness  subsided  we  discovered  that 


THE   USELESS  VIRTUES  207 

the  boat  was  just  arriving,  and  that  it  would  not 
depart  for  several  hours.  Then  something  very 
extraordinary  happened  to  our  triumph.  It  sud- 
denly collapsed  and  shrivelled  into  a  sorry  joke. 
We  felt  ashamed  and  ridiculous,  and  sought  to 
hide  our  diminished  heads  in  the  impersonal 
throng  of  bystanders. 

I  wonder  if  there  is  any  better  definition  of 
that  most  hateful  of  predicaments,  which  we 
describe  as  "having  made  a  fool  of  oneself," 
than  to  say  that  it  is  to  have  exerted  oneself  for 
an  end  that  turns  out  to  be  worthless  in  the  attain- 
ment. Suppose  a  man  to  have  devoted  himself 
passionately  to  the  accumulation  of  riches,  to 
have  spent  himself,  literally,  in  getting  them,  and 
to  have  prided  himself  on  his  skill  and  efficiency, 
only  to  find  that  the  riches  do  not  amount  to 
anything  when  he  has  them;  so  that  although 
he  has  been  so  extraordinarily  busy  in  doing,  he 
has  in  reality  done  nothing.  Such  a  man  might 
well  feel  in  the  flat  and  empty  years  of  his  ebbing 
life  that  he  had  played  the  fool,  and  that  he  might 
better  have  been  less  busy,  if  only  he  might  then 
have  taken  a  little  time  to  think  ahead  and  select 
some  worthy  goal  before  throwing  himself  head- 
long into  the  pursuit. 

A  moment's  thought  about  the  ends  themselves, 
looking  before  you  leap,  curiously  inquiring  into 


208    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

the  itinerary  before  joining  the  procession,  a 
little  cool  philosophy  before  the  heat  of  action, 
disinterested  reflection^  these  are  what  I  mean  by 
the  useless  virtues — the  unpractical  wisdom  of 
Socrates.  Surely  such  wisdom  has  its  place. 
You  cannot  make  life  up  out  of  it  altogether. 
Socrates  in  his  most  Socratic  moods  will  not 
make  an  effective  member  of  the  fire  brigade. 
There  are  times  for  action,  and  when  they  come 
the  man  of  the  hour  is  he  who  has  no  doubts,  but 
only  instincts  and  habits.  Our  instincts  and 
habits,  however,  take  care  of  themselves  better 
than  does  our  cool  reflection.  The  mood  of  prac- 
ticality is  the  vulgar  mood;  not  in  the  sense  of 
being  debased,  but  in  the  sense  of  being  usual  or 
typical.  For  the  individual  it  is  the  line  of  less 
resistance.  Being  usual,  it  sets  the  standards  by 
which  a  man  is  judged  by  the  crowd.  It  is  favored 
by  that  popular  prejudice  called  common  sense. 
It  requires  no  exhortation  of  mine  in  order  to  get 
a  hearing.  Therefore  I  urge,  doubtless  with  some 
exaggeration,  the  value  of  the  rarer  but  not  less 
indispensable  mood. 

It  would  seem  that  practical  efficiency  and 
disinterested  reflection  might  then  divide  life  be- 
tween them,  each  having  its  appropriate  season, 


THE  USELESS  VIRTUES  209 

and  each  requiring  in  society  at  large  its  special 
organs  and  devotees.  But  since  we  are  for  the 
moment  the  partisans  of  disinterested  reflection, 
let  us  recognize  a  certain  advantage  that  it  has 
over  its  rival — the  advantage,  namely,  of  mag- 
nanimity. I  mean  that  while  disinterested  re- 
flection acknowledges  the  merit  of  its  rival,  prac- 
tical efficiency  in  its  haste  and  narrow  bent  is 
likely  to  be  blind  and  intolerant.  If  I  were  asked, 
"What,  in  the  name  of  common  sense,  is  philos- 
ophy?" I  should  be  unable  to  answer.  There 
is  no  answer.  For  amongst  the  categories  of  com- 
mon sense  there  is  no  provision  for  philosophy. 
With  a  person  wholly  dominated  by  common 
sense,  caught  and  swept  along  in  the  tide  of  prac- 
tical endeavor,  or  wholly  dominated  by  social 
habit,  the  philosophical  part  is  in  disuse  and 
may  be  atrophied  altogether.  But  if  I  ask, 
"What,  in  the  name  of  philosophy,  is  common 
sense?"  I  can  find  an  answer — just  such  an 
answer  perhaps  as  we  are  now  giving.  In  short, 
disinterested  reflection  is  more  inclusive,  and 
more  circumspect,  than  practicality. 

But  I  have  not  even  yet  exhausted  the  peculiar 
merits  of  the  unpractical  value  of  disinterested 
reflection.  I  have  spoken  of  its  importance  as 
testing  the  value  of  ends,  and  so  confirming  or 


210    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

discrediting  our  more  impetuous  practical  en- 
deavor. But  there  is  another  point.  I  refer  to 
the  advantage  of  unapplied  knowledge  as  giving 
man  resourcefulness  and  adaptability,  a  capacity 
to  meet  novel  situations.  Let  me  attempt  to 
make  my  meaning  clear. 

We  praise  science  in  these  days,  and  most  of 
us  prefer  it  to  poetry  or  philosophy,  because  we 
can  see  the  use  of  it.  It  is  characteristic  of  our 
practical  standards  that  we  regard  such  men  as 
Watts,  Bell,  Morse  and  Edison  as  typifying  the 
value  of  science.  The  inventor,  the  engineer,  is 
the  man  of  solid  achievement.  Why?  Because, 
again,  he  supplies  that  for  which  the  need  is  al- 
ready felt.  We  want  light,  communication  and 
transportation,  and  such  men  as  these  give  us 
what  we  want.  Therefore  we  are  grateful.  Sim- 
ilarly, the  man  who  discovers  a  cure  for  cancer 
will  be  a  hero  among  men.  There  is  a  powerful 
demand,  an  eager  longing  for  that  which  he  will 
have  to  give,  and  his  reward  will  be  ready  for 
him  when  he  comes. 

Now  we  need  not  disparage  his  glory.  But  this 
is  perfectly  certain:  when  the  discovery  is  made, 
it  will  be  due  to  the  store  of  physical,  chemical, 
physiological,  and  anatomical  truth  which  has 
been  accumulated  by  men  who  were  animated 


THE  USELESS  VIRTUES  211 

mainly  by  theoretical  motives.  These  investi- 
gators have  devoted  themselves  to  winning  knowl- 
edge for  which  there  was  at  the  time  no  practi- 
cal demand.  This  means  that  they  had  to  be 
sustained  by  something  else  than  the  popular  ap- 
plause which  greets  the  man  with  the  remedy. 
Such  men  are  sustained  no  doubt  by  the  en- 
couragement of  their  fellow  investigators,  or  by 
the  patronage  of  the  state.  But  they  rely  more 
than  the  inventor  or  engineer  upon  the  inward 
support  of  their  own  love  of  truth,  and  upon  a 
certain  just  pride  of  the  intellect,  such  as  Kepler 
felt  when  he  wrote  in  the  Preface  to  his  Welt- 
harmonik:  "Here  I  cast  the  die,  and  write  a  book 
to  be  read,  whether  by  contemporaries  or  by  pos- 
terity, I  care  not;  it  can  wait  for  readers  thou- 
sands of  years,  seeing  that  God  himself  waited 
six  thousand  years  for  some  one  to  contemplate 
his  work." 

But  I  had  not  meant  to  be  sentimental  about 
it,  or  to  claim  a  greater  heroism  for  the  detached 
investigator.  Indeed  there  is  a  sense  in  which 
his  conduct  is  less  praiseworthy,  in  so  far  as  it 
is  often  self- regarding  or  unsocial,  lacking  in  that 
motive  of  service  which  we  rightly  require  of 
perfect  conduct.  It  is  sufficient  that  we  should 
see  that  what  he  does  is  indispensable.     It  is 


212    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

through  his  efforts  that  man  is  put  into  posses- 
sion of  a  stock  of  free  and  unappropriated  ideas 
with  which  to  meet  unexpected  and  unpredictable 
emergencies,  or  on  which  to  construct  new  hypoth- 
eses. It  is  this  possession  of  an  ample  margin 
of  knowledge  over  the  recognized  practical  neces- 
sities, of  intellectual  capital,  so  to  speak,  that  is 
the  condition  of  progress.  It  is  this  which  more 
than  anything  else  marks  the  difference  between 
man  and  the  brute,  or  between  progressive  so- 
cieties and  those  static,  barbarian  societies  in 
which  human  energy  is  exhausted  by  the  effort 
to  preserve  existence  with  no  hope  of  betterment. 

It  is  now  evident  enough  that  what  I  have 
called  useless  virtues,  or  unpractical  values,  are 
not  divorced  from  life  in  any  absolute  or  ultimate 
sense.  We  may  as  well  declare  once  and  for  all 
that  there  is  no  virtue  or  value  whatsoever  that 
is  divorced  from  life  in  such  a  sense.  That  it  is 
impossible  that  knowledge  should  be  absolutely 
useless  is  self-evident.  For  to  know  at  all  is  to 
know  the  world  we  live  in,  and  to  know  it  is  to 
bring  it  within  the  range  of  action,  pave  the  way 
to  the  control  of  it.  The  better  we  know  our 
world  the  more  effectually  we  can  live  in  it.  This 
holds  unqualifiedly.     But  there  is  a  very  great 


THE  USELESS  VIRTUES  213 

difference  between  what  we  might  more  correctly 
call  long-range  and  short-range  practicality. 

What  we  usually  speak  of  as  practical  would 
correspond  to  what  I  here  speak  of  as  short- 
range  practicality.  It  means  a  readiness  to  meet 
the  immediate  occasion  as  is  dictated  by  the  mo- 
mentary desire.  Such  practicality  is  a  perpetual 
meeting  of  emergencies.  It  is  a  sort  of  living 
from  hand  to  mouth,  an  uninspired  and  unil- 
lumined  opportunism.  That  which  is  ordinarily 
condemned  as  unpractical,  and  which  is  unprac- 
tical from  this  narrow  standpoint,  may  now  be 
called  long-range  practicality.  That  is  to  say,  it 
is  that  prevision,  that  thorough  intellectual  equip- 
ment, that  wisdom  as  to  the  ultimate  and  com- 
parative worth  of  things,  without  which  there  can 
be  no  security  nor  any  confirming  sense  of  genu- 
ine achievement.  It  is  that  which  makes  the 
difference  between  making  a  fool  of  oneself,  how- 
ever earnestly  or  even  successfully,  and  living  in 
a  manner  which  would  be  able  to  endure  the  test 
of  time. 


XII 

THE   CONDESCENDING   MAN  AND   THE 
OBSTRUCTIVE  WOMAN 

CAN  the  free  man,  in  keeping  with  his  code 
of  freedom,  deny  that  prerogative  to  women  ? 
It  is  a  very  personal  matter,  and  as  public  is- 
sues go,  a  relatively  simple  matter.  Let  us  put 
it  as  concretely  as  possible.  Your  neighbor  has 
asked  that  her  voice  be  heard  and  that  her  will 
be  counted  in  deciding  some  matter  of  general 
neighborhood  policy,  such,  for  example,  as  the 
construction  of  a  new  street.  It  so  happens  that 
this  particular  neighbor  has  a  very  lively  interest 
in  the  matter,  being,  let  us  say,  the  owner  of 
property  through  which  the  projected  street 
would  pass.  She  asks  you  to  consent  to  some 
change  of  procedure  that  will  enable  her  to  repre- 
sent her  own  interest  and  to  have  her  will  count 
as  one  among  the  rest.  Your  first  impulse  is 
to  smile — the  outward  expression  of  your  feeling 
of  incongruity.  Such  a  smile  is  the  restrained 
way  of  manifesting  that  delicate  derision  with 

314 


THE   CONDESCENDING  MAN         215 

which  irregularity  is  greeted  by  the  perfectly 
habituated.  It  is  what  remains  when  civilization 
has  refined  away  the  boorish  laughter  with  which 
the  natural  man  condemns  a  breach  of  custom  or 
departure  from  the  familiar  type.  You  have 
been  used  to  settling  affairs  with  men  whose 
wives  you  have  met  only  in  those  lighter  pastimes 
known  as  "society." 

But  after  the  first  shock  the  realities  of  the 
situation  press  upon  you.  Your  neighbor's  re- 
quest is  irresistibly  natural  and  reasonable.  Un- 
less you  are  a  trained  casuist  you  will  not  hesitate 
to  admit  her  "right"  to  be  heard  and  counted. 
It  will  come  over  you  that  her  sex,  while  it  af- 
fects the  amenities  and  proprieties,  has  nothing 
to  do  with  the  merits  of  her  claim.  Has  she  a 
vital  interest  in  the  outcome  ?  Has  she  a  matured 
opinion?  Is  she  capable  of  discussion?  Then 
what  under  heaven  has  her  sex  to  do  with  it? 
Thus  qualified  she  has  made  good  her  title  to 
rule  among  the  rest,  even  though  she  is  a  daughter 
of  Eve.  You  will  have  no  difficulty  in  recalling 
the  names  of  several  sons  of  Adam  whose  qualifica- 
tions are  more  doubtful,  but  whose  title  is  not 
challenged  because  it  has  been  thought  less  dan- 
gerous to  enfranchise  one  hundred  whose  title  is 
doubtful  than  to  disfranchise  one  whose  title  is 


216     THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

clear.  Better  excessive  liberality  than  the  sus- 
picion of  tyranny. 

Out  of  such  reflections  as  these,  if  you  are 
honest-minded  and  more  concerned  with  the  sub- 
stance than  with  the  form  of  the  thing,  there  will 
grow  a  recognition  of  your  neighbor  as  fellow-cit- 
izen. You  will  come  to  see  that  rights  and  inter- 
ests and  reasoned  conviction  are  neither  masculine 
nor  feminine.  You  may  even  accustom  your  eyes 
to  petticoats  at  the  council-table,  and  your  ear  to 
the  close  succession  of  the  words  "votes"  and 
"women."  The  impulse  to  smile  may  be  forgot- 
ten in  an  unself-conscious  effort  to  work  out  the 
common  good.  You  will  have  found  an  associa- 
tion of  minds  and  purposes  where  at  first  you  saw 
only  a  bit  of  comedy.  And  when  you  meet  your 
neighbor  in  that  conference  in  which  she  registers 
her  will  among  the  rest,  you  may  even  have  so 
far  regained  your  composure  as  to  be  able  to  re- 
move your  hat. 

This,  then,  is  the  question.  It  is  a  neighbor- 
hood question  between  one  human  being  and 
another.  There  are  no  immutable  political  axi- 
oms from  which  it  can  be  argued.  All  of  its  re- 
alities, and  all  of  the  evidence  that  is  germane 
and  decisive  are  to  be  found  in  the  concrete  situa- 
tion in  which  human  interests  and  human  minds 


THE   CONDESCENDING  MAN         217 

are  associated.  To  grasp  the  larger  and  vaguer 
issue,  you  must  reduce  it  in  scale  and  express  it 
in  terms  of  your  own  immediate  community. 
"Rights"  come  into  existence  when  human  beings 
assert  them  and  other  human  beings  acknowledge 
them.  The  rights  of  women  are  now  in  the 
making;  they  are  being  generated  by  the  natural 
and  irresistible  growth  of  practises  and  ideas  to 
which  we  have  long  been  committed.  You  can- 
not deny  your  neighbor;  no  man  can  deny  his 
neighbor.  In  your  act  of  acknowledgment  your 
neighbor  acquires  a  right;  by  such  an  acknowl- 
edgment repeated  a  million  times,  a  whole  social 
class  is  enfranchised. 

This  is  a  question  between  men  and  women, 
not  between  Man  and  Woman.  Each  individual 
must  translate  it  for  himself  into  terms  of  his 
own  personal  relations.  Recall  to  mind  the 
wisest  and  best  woman  of  your  acquaintance. 
Forget  convention  and  legalized  usage,  and  re- 
member only  that  she  has  interests  as  genuine  as 
yours,  purposes  as  broad  and  benevolent,  and 
opinions  that  to  her  seem  true  even  as  do  yours 
to  you.  She  wishes  to  participate  in  the  regula- 
tion of  public  policies  in  a  community  that  is  as- 
sumed to  be  self-governing.  She  possesses  in- 
terests that  belong  to  the  community  of  interests 


218    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

which  government  is  designed  to  promote;  she 
has  opinions  and  is  able  to  express  them,  in  a 
polity  that  is  founded  on  the  principle  of  gov- 
ernment by  discussion  and  agreement.  It  hap- 
pens that  you  enjoy  de  facto  political  power  and 
that  it  is  only  through  your  consent  that  she 
can  represent  her  interests  and  make  her  opinion 
effective. 

When  you  present  the  case  to  yourself  thus 
concretely  and  personally,  are  there  no  senti- 
ments of  justice  and  respect  that  instantly  pre- 
scribe what  shall  be  your  course?  Can  you  in 
the  presence  of  such  an  individual,  conscious  of 
her  interests,  articulate  in  her  judgment,  soberly 
demanding  what  she  conceives  to  be  her  just 
rights,  still  wear  upon  your  face  that  smile  with 
which  you  dispose  of  the  matter  in  her  absence? 

I,  for  one,  cannot.  I  have  no  heart  for  banter 
and  pleasantry  in  the  face  of  conscious  and  inten- 
tional seriousness.  I  could  not  carry  it  through. 
I  should  be  overtaken  with  shame  at  my  own 
insolence.  Or  can  you  allow  your  face  to  wear 
the  aspect  of  offended  taste  ?  As  for  me,  I  cannot. 
The  bathos  of  it  is  too  intolerable.  Can  you 
in  such  a  presence  enter  with  conviction  upon 
a  discussion  of  the  relation  of  abstract  Right  to 
abstract  Woman?     I  could  not  go  far  without 


THE  CONDESCENDING  MAN         219 

feeling  that  I  was  getting  pedantic  and  irrelevant. 
I  know  so  much  better  what  I  owe  to  this  woman, 
than  I  or  anybody  else  knows  the  ultimate  philos- 
ophy of  the  ballot.  Can  you  deny  her  from  mere 
love  of  power?  If  so,  you  will  not  admit  it. 
Tyranny  must  nowadays  wear  a  mask.  The 
honest  tyrant  who  says,  "I  have  this  power  and 
I  do  not  choose  to  divide  and  reduce  it,"  is  ob- 
solete. If  he  were  not  we  should  know  how  to 
deal  with  him.  But  he  is  masked,  and  unless  we 
look  sharp  we  shall  not  recognize  him.  He  is 
most  beguiling  as  The  Condescending  Man.  It 
is  worth  while  to  know  him  well  in  that  role,  for 
thus  disguised  he  is  all  about  us. 

The  Condescending  Man  is  the  self-conscious 
and  self-constituted  guardian  of  woman.  If  his 
carriage  is  a  little  pompous,  if  he  is  a  little  lack- 
ing in  the  qualities  of  comradeship,  we  must  for- 
give him  that  since  it  comes  of  the  very  abundance 
of  his  virtue.  He  beams  with  good-will  and  with 
gracious  tolerance  of  the  foibles  of  his  ward.  She 
may  even  bite  and  scratch,  and  he  will  spoil  her. 
She  may  even  protest  that  she  does  not  want  his 
guardianship,  and  he  will  forgive  her;  for  how 
can  she  be  expected  to  know  what  is  good  for 
her!    He  must  be  patient  even  when  misunder- 


220    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

stood,  and  must  serve  even  the  ungrateful  against 
their  will.  If  they  but  knew,  how  they  would 
thank  him !  In  the  editorial  columns  of  the  New 
York  Times  he  is  positively  magnanimous.1 
"No  upright  and  decent  man  desires  to  with- 
hold from  woman  any  privilege  which  will  bene- 
fit her" — "any  privilege,"  mark  you !  Could  any 
devotion  be  more  perfect?  He  will  go  out  "into 
the  everlasting  scrimmage  of  life"  in  order  that 
she  may  foster  her  "charm  and  tenderness"  at 
home,  or  radiate  it  in  the  cloistered  schoolroom. 
To  argue  the  disfranchisement  of  women  one 
must  deny  to  the  sex  as  a  whole  some  quality 
with  which  men  are  by  nature  endowed.  To  ac- 
complish this  without  arrogance  it  is  necessary 
to  make  as  little  as  possible  of  man's  prerogative; 
which  results  in  disparaging  not  only  the  prerog- 
ative, but  also  the  province  for  which  it  qualifies 
him.  That  which  men  alone  are  fitted  to  do, 
which  women  are  constitutionally  incapable  oU 
doing,  must  to  a  chivalrous  mind  seem  a  relatively 
ignoble  thing  to  do.  Hence  the  distinctive  mark 
of  man  is  his  animal  virility,  and  the  province 
for  which  he  is  fitted  is  the  "fera  mxnia  militiai 
and  the  no  less  rude  task  of  politics."  a 

1  February  7,  1915. 

1  Professor  E.  K.  Rand,  in  Harper's  Weekly,  October  30,  1915. 


THE   CONDESCENDING  MAN         221 

But  this  is  to  assume  that  shallow  opinion  of 
politics  by  which  some  of  the  more  fastidious  of 
the  Virile  Animals  excuse  their  own  political  in- 
dolence. It  does  not  come  of  reflecting  deeply  on 
the  function  of  the  state  or  the  ethics  of  citizen- 
ship. Plato,  having  distinguished  between  the 
"rudeness"  which  is  "the  natural  product  of  the 
spirited  element"  and  the  "gentleness"  which  is 
"a  property  of  the  philosophical  temperament," 
proposes  that  "the  class  of  philosophers  be  in- 
vested with  the  supreme  authority  in  a  state." 
For  Plato,  in  short,  the  supreme  political  qualifica- 
tion is  not  hardiness  and  daring,  but  philosophy 
— which,  whatever  its  shortcomings,  is  certainly 
not  a  display  of  rude  animal  virility ! 

Is  it  not  time  for  us  to  banish  altogether  this 
American  provincialism,  which  conceives  politics 
as  a  square-jawed,  bull-necked  occupation  re- 
quiring calloused  hands  and  a  strong  stomach? 
Can  there  be  any  act  to  which  mere  animal  virility 
is  less  appropriate  than  the  act  of  social  self- 
government?  Is  there  any  act  which  calls  higher 
spiritual  qualities  into  play?  Citizenship  is  a 
matter  not  for  brawn  but  for  brains,  not  for 
physical,  but  for  moral,  courage.  It  puts  a  strain 
not  on  body  but  on  character.  It  is  because  I 
know  women  to  possess  these  essential  qualifica- 


222    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

tions  for  citizenship,  and  because  I  know  that 
they  possess  some  of  them  pre-eminently,  such  as 
humanity  and  the  power  to  endure,  that  I  can- 
not but  concede  to  women  the  full  rights  of 
citizenship. 

Politics  is  discussion  and  organization  for  the 
general  good.  Shall  men  deny  to  women  partici- 
pation in  these  matters  because  men  have  so  con- 
ducted them  as  to  make  their  purpose  obscure  and 
their  name  odious?  The  tone  of  political  affairs 
is  given  to  them  by  the  quality  of  those  who 
conduct  them.  The  Condescending  Man's  poor 
opinion  of  their  tone  would  suggest  that  they  may 
have  been  left  too  largely  in  the  hands  of  Virile 
Animals.  Even  he  would  not  propose  that  the 
charm  and  tenderness  which  occasionally  manifest 
themselves  even  among  men  should  be  regarded 
as  excusing  them  from  political  life.  In  short,  if 
one  is  to  argue  at  all  from  the  rudeness  of  political 
life,  the  conclusion  would  be,  not  that  the  higher 
humanity  should  be  kept  from  politics,  but  rather 
that  politics  should  be  more  highly  humanized. 

In  these  days  of  rough  force  The  Condescend- 
ing Man  stands  almost  alone  in  his  charity  and 
considerate  regard.  He  is  benevolent  through  and 
through,  and  he  doesn't  care  who  knows  it.    God 


THE   CONDESCENDING   MAN         223 

bless  him !  No  one  with  a  heart  in  his  bosom 
can  remain  untouched  at  such  a  spectacle.  It  is 
little  wonder  that  many  of  his  grateful  wards 
rise  up  and  call  him  blessed,  asking  no  happier 
lot  than  to  enjoy  his  protection,  his  caressing 
kindness,  and  the  light  of  his  infallible  wis- 
dom. 

It  is  ungracious  to  probe  into  the  motives  of  a 
benevolence  so  perfect.  Such  a  task  is  not  will- 
ingly undertaken  even  by  his  less  inspired  fellow 
guardians,  who  owe  him  no  debt  of  gratitude. 
But  let  us  shake  off  the  spell,  and  remember 
as  vividly  as  we  can  just  how  it  feels  to  be  amiably 
but  persistently  treated  as  a  ward,  when  one 
doesn't  want  to  be  a  ward.  Every  man  has  ex- 
perienced the  difficulty  of  getting  his  majority 
acknowledged  by  those  who  have  long  regarded 
him  as  a  child.  There  comes  a  time  in  every 
man's  life  when  what  he  wants  is  not  indulgence 
or  even  provident  care,  but  independence.  This 
painful  struggle,  the  inevitable  and  recurrent 
tragedy  of  father  and  son,  is  not  a  struggle  over 
benefits  withheld  or  bestowed,  but  over  the  right 
to  judge  what  are  benefits.  An  adult  is  a  person 
who  is  the  acknowledged  authority  as  to  what  he 
himself  wants.  He  is  willing  to  forfeit  good-will 
or  even  good  deeds,  for  the  sake  of  being  allowed 


224    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

to  say  for  himself  what  is  good.  Such  relations 
and  such  struggles  occur  in  every  association  of 
older  and  younger  men.  There  comes  a  time 
sooner  or  later  when  benevolent  paternalism  is 
unduly  prolonged,  and  becomes  an  intolerable 
restraint  upon  liberty.  When  such  is  the  case 
the  benevolent  patron  is  in  danger  of  having 
his  feelings  hurt.  His  misguided  and  belated 
providence  can  no  longer  be  gratefully  ac- 
cepted, but  must  be  firmly  and  regretfully  over- 
thrown. 

Something  of  this  sort,  I  take  it,  is  involved  in 
the  present  painful  misunderstanding  between 
some  men  and  some  women.  There  are  women 
who  believe  that  they  are  grown  up,  and  who 
are  trying  to  get  the  fact  acknowledged.  They 
are  not  seeking  what  is  good  for  them,  but  they 
would  like  to  be  regarded  as  competent  to  de- 
cide what  is  good  for  them.  Their  most  formid- 
able obstacle  is  the  man  who  is  quite  firmly  con- 
vinced that  he  knows  what  is  good  for  them. 
His  intentions  are  good,  and  his  habits  of  mind, 
inherited  from  the  usage  of  the  past,  are  quite 
inflexible.  There  arises  the  painful  necessity  of 
disregarding  his  good  intentions,  or  even  of  re- 
senting them  in  order  to  gain  the  main  point. 
He  on  his  part  will  find  his  habits  of  mind  un- 


THE  CONDESCENDING  MAN         225 

suited  to  the  new  relationship,  and  will  cling  to 
them  in  order  to  avoid  awkwardness  and  loss  of 
dignity.  He  will  inevitably  feel  abused  that  his 
good  intentions  should  not  have  been  deemed 
sufficient. 

At  the  risk  of  further  injury  to  his  feelings  let 
us  examine  a  little  more  closely  into  the  motives 
of  The  Condescending  Man.  I  do  not  want  to 
be  cynical — but  why  does  he  so  insist  upon  his 
benevolence,  even  when  it  is  so  ungratefully  re- 
ceived? Is  it  possible  that  there  is  some  satis- 
faction in  the  provident  care  of  dependents,  and 
that  he  becomes  aware  of  it,  and  clings  to  it  at 
the  moment  when  he  is  about  to  lose  it  ?  I  strongly 
suspect  that  such  is  the  case.  Indeed  upon  care- 
ful introspection  I  am  sure  of  it.  A  benign  gra- 
ciousness  reciprocated  by  an  attitude  of  grateful 
and  trusting  dependence  and  pervaded  by  a 
thoroughly  good  conscience,  distils  one  of  the 
most  delicious  of  pleasures — a  pleasure  not  to  be 
abandoned  without  a  struggle.  It  exists  in  forms 
far  subtler  than  the  rough  triumph  of  a  Petruchio; 
but  it  requires  that  Katharine  shall  be  tamed  and 
shall  remain  so.  This  same  exquisite  sentiment 
inspires  those  who  regret  the  passing  of  the  "good 
servant."  This  departed  blessing  is  a  creature 
grateful  for  the  advantages  of  "a  refined  home" 


226    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

(even  though  it  happens  to  be  somebody  else's 
home)  and  content  to  receive  benefits  selected 
and  doled  out  by  her  acknowledged  superiors. 
In  the  golden  age  of  patronage  men  could  patron- 
ize domesticated  women  while  these  in  turn  could 
exercise  their  benevolence  upon  domesticated 
servants.  And  now  the  outlook  for  all  patrons 
is  bad,  owing  to  the  wide-spread  and  growing 
dislike  of  being  patronized. 

The  Condescending  Man  is  fond  of  his  con- 
descension. He  cannot  bear  to  give  it  up.  He 
resists  a  change  that  will  rob  it  of  his  object. 
The  good  old  practise  of  deciding  what  is  good 
for  other  people,  of  prescribing  it  and  spooning 
it  out  with  kindly  smiles  is  in  grave  danger.  It 
cannot  possibly  be  carried  on  unless  there  is  a 
being  at  hand  who  will  open  her  mouth,  swallow 
her  sugared  dose,  and  look  pleased  while  she  does 
it.  It  is  a  highly  gratifying  thing  to  exchange  de- 
scending benevolence  with  ascending  gratitude. 
The  downward  slant  of  condescension  must  en- 
counter the  upward  inclination  of  dependence. 
Otherwise  it  has  no  fulcrum  and  can  only  waste 
itself  in  space.  The  horizontal  interchange  of 
friendship  isn't  the  same  thing  at  all.  Hence  The 
Condescending  Man  quite  naturally,  too  natur- 
ally, goes  about  praising  and  promoting  the  ob- 


THE  CONDESCENDING  MAN         227 

ject  which  he  needs  for  the  exercise  of  his  con- 
descension. 


I  have  tried  to  do  justice  to  The  Condescend- 
ing Man,  and  to  give  him  due  credit  for  his  good 
intentions.  But  I  feel  compelled  to  admit  that 
he  sometimes  appears  in  a  less  amiable  light.  He 
has  even  been  known  to  hint  strongly  that  his 
indulgent  care  for  women  is  a  sort  of  compensa- 
tion to  them  for  their  lack  of  political  power. 
If  they  prefer  to  possess  political  power,  then 
they  must  make  up  their  minds  to  give  up  their 
immunity  from  military  service  and  jury  duty, 
their  dower  rights,  their  legal  claims  to  support 
and  to  alimony,  and  the  protection  of  their 
health  by  special  factory  laws.  "Equal  rights, 
equal  duties,"  says  our  editorial  friend,1  by 
way  of  showing  that  even  The  Condescending 
Man  can  be  firm  if  it  should  prove  neces- 
sary. 

It  might  have  been  supposed  that  these  "priv- 
ileges" of  women  were  based  upon  differences  of 
physical  strength  and  aptitude;  and  upon  the  pe- 
culiar services  which  women  render  to  society  by 
the  bearing  and  rearing  of  children,  and  by  the 
immediate  care  of  the  home.    These  have  some- 

*New  York  Times,  February  28,  1915. 


228    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

times  been  regarded  as  duties  quite  "equal"  to 
fighting  and  bread-winning.  In  that  case  the 
formula  would  have  to  be  amended  to  read  "equal 
rights,  identical  duties,"  which  is  somewhat  less 
axiomatic.  In  any  case  the  principle  of  benev- 
olence is  here  abandoned  for  that  of  bargaining. 
And  the  bargain  is  proposed  by  the  party  that 
has  the  upper  hand  and  believes  itself  to  be  in 
a  position  to  dictate  terms.  Condescension  is 
here  prescribing  conditions,  as  though  one  were 
to  say:  "I  will  give  you  what  I  think  is  good  for 
you,  but  only  provided  you  will  accept  certain 
existing  disabilities — I  will  give  freely,  but  you 
must  pay  for  it." 

Similarly,  a  defender  of  the  privileges  of  men 
has  proposed  the  inverted  sentiment:  "No  rep- 
resentation without  taxation."  Since  women  as 
a  class  are  too  frail  to  bear  the  burdens  of  politics 
and  war,  they  "should  not  have  the  right  to  vote 
about  them."  But  one  who  employs  this  argu- 
ment either  has  an  inadequate  conception  of 
politics  and  war  or  he  has  an  inadequate  concep- 
tion of  the  public  service  of  women.  Since  his 
chivalry  acquits  him  of  the  latter,  we  must  con- 
vict him  of  the  former.  He  is  betrayed,  I  think, 
by  a  conventional  and  antiquated  conception  of 
politics  and  war.    That  he  regards  politics  under 


THE  CONDESCENDING  MAN         229 

its  superficial  and  local  aspect,  and  confuses  its 
abuses  with  its  uses,  we  have  already  found 
reason  to  suspect.  If  he  were  to  remind  himself 
that  politics  is  concerted  action  for  the  public 
interest,  he  would  find  it  less  incongruous  with 
his  conception  of  womanliness. 

Similarly  he  appears  to  identify  war  with  the 
shock  of  arms,  despite  the  fact  that  recent  events 
have  relegated  this  idea  to  the  class  of  picture-book 
anachronisms.  War  is  the  organization  and  mobi- 
lization of  a  nation's  resources.  War  is  the  care 
of  fatherless  children;  war  is  food  and  clothing, 
science  and  invention,  nursing  and  sanitation,  di- 
plomacy and  literature.  When  war  is  thus  con- 
ceived the  participation  of  women  is  not  ques- 
tionable at  all.  They  do  participate.  Their  loyalty 
is  stanch,  their  industry  unremitting,  and  their 
burden  more  heavy  than  the  most  generous  man 
has  ever  fully  acknowledged.  There  is  only  one 
symbol  of  civil  rights,  one  instrument  of  politi- 
cal autonomy — the  vote.  There  are  a  thousand 
forms  of  service,  equally  burdensome.  The  day 
has  passed  when  it  can  be  lightly  said  that 
women  are  to  be  denied  the  former  on  the  ground 
that  they  do  not  assume  a  proportionate  share  of 
the  latter. 

I  fear  that  The  Condescending  Man's  code  of 


230    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

manners,  like  his  code  of  morals,  is  also  tainted 
with  the  spirit  of  barter.  There  are  rumors  that 
if  women  enjoy  too  many  privileges  he  may  feel 
compelled  to  sit  in  their  presence  with  his  hat 
on,  by  way  of  showing  that  the  bargain  is  off. 
That  is  to  say,  courtesy  rests  on  a  tacit  contract 
by  which  the  recipient  is  bound  to  give  up  more 
substantial  advantages  in  return.  "Ladies  First" 
means  that  women  are  to  be  given  precedence  in 
non-essentials  on  the  understanding  that  they 
yield  it  in  essentials.  They  may  sit  in  the  draw- 
ing-room or  even  the  tram-car,  provided  they 
will  confine  themselves  to  the  gallery  in  the  hall 
of  legislation.  Such  is  the  code  of  The  Conde- 
scending Man.  Now  it  is  interesting  to  note, 
as  a  curious  social  phenomenon,  that  some  men 
in  some  parts  of  the  world  even  practise  courtesy 
to  one  another!  This  sometimes  goes  even  to 
the  point  of  the  removal  of  hats  and  the  yielding 
of  precedence  in  doorways  and  conversations.  I 
am  not  sure  that  men  do  not  sometimes  offer 
their  chairs  to  other  men,  even  where  there  is 
no  acknowledged  inequality.  I  note  this  fact 
because  it  suggests  that  courtesy  might  similarly 
be  extended  to  women  even  after  their  attainment 
of  equal  rights.  But  such  a  code  cannot  be 
reconciled  with  the  philosophy  of  The  Conde- 


THE   CONDESCENDING  MAN         231 

scending  Man,  and  I  do  not  blame  him  for  dis- 
regarding it. 

Such,  then,  is  the  first  and  most  formidable 
obstacle  to  the  attempt  of  women  to  acquire 
political  power.  The  second  obstacle  is  a  product 
of  the  attempt  itself,  less  formidable  because  es- 
sentially artificial  and  accidental.  I  refer  to  The 
Obstructive  Woman.  When  this  matter  began 
to  be  agitated  it  was  natural  and  proper  to  ask 
whether  any  considerable  number  of  women  ac- 
tually wanted  to  vote.  In  other  words,  it  was 
very  generally  assumed  that  a  right  of  this  sort 
should  be  acknowledged  when  it  was  earnestly 
and  persistently  and  widely  asserted.  What  was 
required  first  of  all  was  an  expression  of  opinion. 
It  was  desirable  that  those  women  who  did  not 
wish  to  vote  should  say  so,  and  that  they  should 
even  organize  in  order  that  such  a  disinclination 
should  be  brought  to  light  wherever  it  existed. 
In  canvassing  opinion  it  is  important  to  count 
the  "noes"  as  well  as  the  "ayes."  But  organiza- 
tion and  counter-organization  has  developed  a 
contest  in  which  the  natural  human  desire  to 
win  has  brought  about  an  unconscious  but  very 
significant  alteration  of  motives.  The  pro-suffrage 
organizations  still  represent  as  they  did  at  the  be- 


232     THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

ginning  the  desire  of  some  women  to  vote.  But 
the  anti-suffrage  organizations  no  longer  repre- 
sent merely  their  members'  disinclination  to  vote, 
but  a  determination  that  those  who  are  so  in- 
clined shall  not  succeed.  Their  first  platform 
was:  "We  do  not  want  it";  their  present  plat- 
form is:  "They  shall  not  have  it."  Hence  The 
Obstructive  Woman. 

"Anti-suffrage"  sounds  like  " an ti- vivisection," 
and  is  therefore  misleading.  It  suggests  that 
suffrage  is  something  like  vivisection,  which  is 
at  least  painful  and  injurious  to  its  victims,  and 
that  opposition  to  it  is  dictated  by  a  misguided 
chivalry  or  sentimentality.  So  hard  is  it  to  be- 
lieve that  any  body  of  persons  would  expend 
great  effort  to  no  end  but  that  of  obstruction. 
"Association  Opposed  to  Woman  Suffrage"  sounds 
like  "Society  for  the  Prevention  of  Cruelty  to 
Animals."  A  visitor  from  Mars  would  not  un- 
naturally suppose  that  "Woman  Suffrage"  was 
some  form  of  disease  or  social  abuse,  which  tender- 
hearted and  public-spirited  persons  were  resolved 
to  suppress.  What  would  be  his  surprise  to  learn 
that  it  was  a  boon,  a  privilege,  eagerly  craved  by 
the  only  persons  immediately  affected,  and  op- 
posed by  other  persons  whose  will  no  one  is  pro- 
posing to  constrain !  It  is  as  though  the  unmusical 


THE  CONDESCENDING  MAN         233 

should  organize  for  the  prevention  of  concerts 
among  the  musical,  or  the  indifferent  should 
announce  their  opposition  to  the  fulfilment  of 
desire. 

That  Mrs.  Arthur  M.  Dodge,  President  of 
the  National  Association  Opposed  to  Woman 
Suffrage, "  should  not  want  to  vote  is  proper 
enough,  but  not  especially  significant.  That 
Miss  Katharine  B.  Davis,  Commissioner  of  Cor- 
rection in  New  York  City,  and  head  of  a  depart- 
ment numbering  between  six  and  seven  hundred 
voters,  should  not  be  allowed  to  vote,  despite 
her  wish  to  do  so,  is  highly  significant.  It  is  a 
sharp  challenge  to  existing  political  usage  in  the 
name  of  the  existing  political  creed.  But  that 
Mrs.  Arthur  M.  Dodge  should  seek  to  prevent 
Miss  Katharine  B.  Davis  from  voting  is  pre- 
posterous. It  would  be  incredible  if  it  were  not 
the  familiar  fact.  It  can  only  be  accounted  for 
by  supposing  that  what  is  essentially  obstruc- 
tion is  warmed  by  the  passion  for  victory  and 
idealized  by  the  sentiment  of  loyalty.  Obstruc- 
tion has  acquired  the  dignity  of  a  Cause. 

The  Obstructive  Woman  is  a  disquieting  so- 
cial and  political  phenomenon,  and  complicates 
what  would  otherwise  be  a  comparatively  simple 
issue.    I  may  say  at  once  that  I  should  be  wholly 


234    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

opposed  to  compelling  The  Obstructive  Woman 
to  vote.  Fortunately,  that  is  not  contemplated. 
To  some,  however,  it  might  seem  a  doubtful 
policy  to  permit  her  to  vote.  Certainly  her  will 
in  this  matter,  her  impulse  to  oppose  rather  than 
to  promote,  her  inexplicable  preference  of  a  man- 
ger when  there  are  other  equally  good  beds  to  lie 
on — this  does  tend  to  disqualify  her.  In  her 
present  mood  she  is  obviously  unsuited  to  the 
temper  of  democratic  institutions.  I  do  not 
despair  of  her,  however.  She  has  acquired  val- 
uable political  experience,  and  has  demonstrated 
her  possession  of  political  aptitude.  She  is  both 
able  and  willing  to  make  her  voice  heard,  and  to 
render  her  will  effective.  That  she  should  have 
devoted  these  gifts  to  obstruction  rather  than 
construction,  to  repression  rather  than  liberty, 
may  fairly  be  regarded  as  an  accident.  The  very 
fatuousness  of  her  efforts  is  a  sign  of  her  courage 
and  resolution,  of  her  love  of  power  and  of  her 
determination  to  see  a  thing  through  when  she 
has  once  undertaken  it.  I  believe  that  she  has 
proved  her  capacity  for  citizenship,  and  that  when 
the  present  confusion  of  motives  is  dispelled,  after 
the  struggle  is  over,  she  will  take  her  place  nobly 
among  the  rest.  I  hope,  therefore,  that  even 
The  Obstructive  Woman  will  not  be  disfranchised. 


THE  CONDESCENDING  MAN         235 

It  is  argued,  I  know,  that  The  Obstructive 
Woman  is  not  merely  obstructive,  that  she  has 
her  own  ideals  and  conception  of  good.  In 
particular  she  regards  herself  as  the  protagonist 
of  the  family  and  the  domestic  virtues,  and  claims 
the  right  to  be  left  to  her  own  "sphere."  This 
solicitude  for  the  family  is  commendable,  but  is 
wasteful  of  good,  righteous  feeling.  Politics 
need  no  more  draw  women  from  the  nursery 
than  men  from  the  ditch.  Since  women  must 
bear  and  rear  children,  and  men  must  feed  and 
clothe  them,  women  have  an  equal  leisure  for 
citizenship,  and  at  least  an  equal  schooling  for  it. 

Furthermore,  the  removal  of  arbitrary  re- 
strictions upon  the  exercise  of  political  power 
means  freedom  and  fair  play  for  all  ideals.  The 
only  grievance  that  remains  is  the  uncongenial 
task  of  acquiring  familiarity  with  public  affairs 
and  the  labor  of  going  to  the  polls;  which  is,  I 
think,  to  match  an  annoyance  against  an  injustice. 
Furthermore,  by  their  present  attitude  anti- 
suffrage  women  condemn  themselves  to  a  task 
that  is  equally  laborious,  and  which  must  be 
more  uncongenial.  For  it  is  a  task  of  opposition 
and  repression.  It  involves  all  the  ordinary 
agencies  of  political  action,  but  directs  them  to 
the  stifling  of  legitimate  aspiration.     And  unless 


236    THE  FREE  MAN  AND  THE  SOLDIER 

the  whole  spirit  of  our  institutions  is  altered,  it 
is  a  hopeless  task.  For  the  motive  which  they 
seek  to  oppose  is  that  irrepressible  motive  of 
liberty  and  equality  which  finds  in  democracy 
its  proper  soil  and  native  air. 

The  Condescending  Man  and  The  Obstructive 
Woman  are  the  two  most  interesting  by-products 
of  this  latest  political  revolution.  They  are 
characteristic  of  the  phase  of  struggle  and  read- 
justment. They  become  innocuous  the  moment 
they  are  seen  to  be  what  they  are.  Meanwhile 
they  exert  power  because  they  obscure  the  simpler 
issue  and  muddle  the  minds  of  well-meaning  per- 
sons. Their  strongest  ally  is  that  peculiar  nervous 
irritability  which  we  proudly  acknowledge  as 
"the  American  sense  of  humor."  It  is  an  al- 
most irresistible  impulse  to  giggle  at  superficial 
absurdities  and  ignore  the  deeper  tragic  forces 
that  are  working  beneath.  It  testifies  to  an  un- 
canny instinct  for  the  incongruous  and  its  al- 
most morbid  fascination  for  us.  But  though  the 
incongruous  be  comic,  the  incongruity  of  the 
comic  itself — laughter  out  of  place — is  not  comic. 
There  is  nothing  more  painful,  more  empty,  or 
more  blind.  Fortunately  the  impulse  to  laugh 
is    inhibited    by    direct    personal    relations.      It 


THE  CONDESCENDING  MAN         237 

needs  to  merge  and  hide  itself  in  the  crowd. 
Hence  the  realities  of  this  issue  are  most  soberly 
as  well  as  most  clearly  presented  in  the  confronta- 
tion of  the  individual  with  his  neighbor.  It  be- 
hooves every  one  who  would  judge  wisely  and 
fairly  to  observe  them  there.  One  may  then 
transfer  to  women  at  large  those  attitudes  of 
tolerance  and  respect,  and  those  relations  of 
fellow  service  and  common  will,  which  constitute 
the  only  tolerable  bond  between  one  adult  human 
being  and  another. 


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